Surveillance
by Chocolateveela
Summary: Draco is framed for an awful crime, and only Hermione believes him. But who will believe her? Read to find out. Post Hogwarts. DMHG
1. The Trial and the Girl

**A/N: Welcome to my new story, I know I should be working on my other one but this one I liek so much better (My other story "New Territory" is a crime against literature, I think). Just a few quick things to remember... In cannon, Draco's birthday is June 5, 1980 he is younger than Hermione, who out of the trio is the oldest, born September 19, 1979 (I only say that because in most fanfics I read, people have Draco older than Hermione). I speak intermediate French so apologies to anyone if it sucks (for those that don't speak it at all, it's very little French, you'll be fine). I've disregarded book 6, and so I won't hold you much longer…**

**Disclaimer: I will only type this once for the entire story…I do not own any original Harry Potter characters, places, or ideas. I am in no way affiliated with J.K. Rowling (like anyone would believe I was)**

**Chapter 1: The Trial and the Girl**

_June 3, 1997_

Draco nervously twisted the silver ring around his finger as he looked around the trial room. It was a laughable predicament really, in two days time he was supposed to be graduating from Hogwarts and celebrating his seventeenth birthday, a celebration of legal manhood.

Instead, here he sat, quite on display in front of the entire Wizengamot, and a rather sizeable amount of public onlookers present for the trial of death eaters, the ones that had not been killed in the battle at least. The other death eater's children that had gone before him (those also just shy of having been the age to have been under the ranks of Voldemort) had quickly given their obviously rehearsed testimony and gone down.

He looked around the large circular room and his eyes first landed on Hogwarts headmaster. Dumbledore looked at no one in particular, but had very pensive look on his face. Draco nearly scoffed at the expression on Potter's face. Pure condemnation was the only explanation. Beside him were his lackeys, Weasley and that bushy haired mudblood, Granger.

A soft sob turned his attention to the back of the room. There sat his mother, looking as well put together as she did any other day, except she was crying. Her eyes were red rimmed, and she clutched a handkerchief to her face. And directly in front of him, in the center of the room was a cage-like contraption housing the likes of at least eight death eaters; including Lucius Malfoy.

The scene before him seemed surreal, and its conclusion rest entirely in his hands…

"—and so you realize young Mr. Malfoy, that you are under oath. Do you swear to tell the truth as it is known to you in its entirety?" A murmur erupted throughout the trial room, whispers and scoffs…

"Yes, I do." He spoke a little louder over the noise in the room.

"Very well. For the record, are you Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Are you son of Lucius Malfoy (he motioned towards the cage)?"

Draco glanced at the cage, his father's empty eyes catching his with an unreadable expression, "Yes—I am."

The prosecutor narrowed his eyes at Draco, "Are you or have you ever been a Death Eater; following the likes of recently vanquished Lord Voldemort."

Draco swallowed; the ring was now beginning to chafe his finger. He looked up again, this time into a pair of pensive blue eyes. He couldn't be sure, but he was almost certain Dumbledore had nodded at him.

"No."

An emission of coughs, scoffs, and whispers started once again. The prosecutor, who looked almost gleeful, whispered to his partner then approached the Wizengamot. After a brief exchange, he came back to stand in front of Draco.

"Would you be willing, then, to testify under the influence of Veritaserum?"

_So, _now_ the room goes quiet. _Draco for some reason looked at Dumbledore, but another had seemingly captured the attention of the headmaster and it was he whose pale grey eyes were staring… nearly boring a whole into Draco's face.

"Yes." Draco's voice was so low one could almost hear the audience straining to hear him speak, but it was steady and clear. He had no idea why he complied, he just felt compelled to do so. A refusal would have surely meant he was hiding something. Arrogance had gotten the better of him; he was so skilled at Occlumency, so he thought he could no doubt thwart the effect of Veritaserum…

_Wait…_

What was he doing? He could not testify under Veritaserum, what if they asked him about Snape? But if he didn't, and it was found out he lied, he would no doubt also be spending a considerable amount of time within the depths of Azkaban, and that was something he refused to do, for no one.

He finally looked at his father, who by this point was doomed to Azkaban no matter what Draco did. Convicted of war crimes, murder, illegal use of dark arts…the list grew from there. But it was his _father._ No, he had decided, no, he simply could not do it. There was no way he would testify under that potion and risk revealing more than necessary…too late.

"Young Mr. Malfoy, please follow the Mediwitch into the chambers adjacent to this room; there you will receive the necessary dosage of Veritaserum, lasting throughout the duration of your testimony."

Draco followed her, and returned shortly thereafter. He took his place on the stand once again and waited, with sweaty palms, for the questions that followed.

"Please state your full legal name."

"Draco Orion Malfoy."

"Now Mr. Malfoy, I will ask once again. Are you or have you ever been a death eater?"

"No." (The prosecutor's gleeful expression slipped slightly)

"Are you aware, Mr. Malfoy, of the dungeons located within the depths of your home?"

"Yes."

"Please then, tell us what they were used for?"

Draco pursed his lips closed. It had begun. The prosecution was going to get every piece of information out of him that they could. He vaguely registered a bead of moisture run down the back of his neck. He desperately felt the urge to answer the question.

He tightened his mouth until he could hold it back no longer. "The dungeons were used for the torturing of Mudbloods and Muggles and—and," _No, please no… "_And the murder of Professor Severus Snape."

An exaggerated gasp could be heard somewhere within the confines of the room.

"And Mr. Malfoy," the prosecutor leaned forward nearly breathing his excitement onto Draco, "who are the persons responsible for those acts?"

He couldn't help himself, if he could he would have. He took a deep breath and said everything at once, "I am aware of Philip Crabbe, Gregory Goyle Senior, Frederick Nott, Peter Parkinson, and…"

Nearly everyone in the room had somehow edged toward the end of their seats, hanging onto his every word. Draco's breath had become ragged…

"Please go on Mr. Malfoy." Draco could have hexed the man for the way he relished in his misery.

"And—Lucius Malfoy."

* * *

**4 Years and 6 Months later.**

"It is time for Master to wake up. Master has plans to travel today." The shrill voice of Draco Malfoy's house elf drifted into his dream. He barely opened one eye and saw that the time-teller at his bedside read six o'clock in the morning.

The dull gray light that is visible at the early hours of the day had somehow managed to seep through the heavy drapes and disturbed the absolute darkness of the room.

Draco groaned to give some sign that he had awakened prompting the tiny house elf to scuttle from the room.

After dressing, he collected his belongings and stepped into the fireplace, moments later he arrived at the ministry. Floo travel during the holidays had been restricted. Since popular destinations were no doubt to be clogged, the Ministry had come up with an effective way to prevent confusion.

T he Ministry Flooport was packed. It was nearing the holidays and families bustled about cheerfully, decked out in bright holiday colors. A special holiday song by the popular wizarding band _The Weird Sisters _blared overhead.

Draco, who moved steadily towards his destination, seemed not to notice. He checked his ticket: Departure Terminal #7 8:15am.

"Sorry sir," a young wizard rushing by apologized for bumping his shoulder. Draco grimaced and brushed the non-existent dirt from his traveling cloak.

Once in line, he quickly became annoyed by the tacky hat sitting on the head of a short blonde witch in front of him. With no room to move back, he was trapped and became more agitated as she seemed oblivious to her attack on him.

By the third time the hat bumped him in the face, Draco spoke up. "Pardon me Miss, would you mind removing your hat?"

The witch turned around, her misty eyes widened in surprise. "Oi! Draco Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here, I thought you'd be too embarrassed to show your face in public again. Mighty glad you did though; you're a treat to look at, except for that depressing choice of robes, of course."

The witch turned around bumping him in the face once more. Glancing down at his attire, Draco felt his face grow hot. "Do I know you?"

The witch turned around and politely extended a gloved hand. "Luna Lovegood. I am owner of _The Quibbler_."

Draco looked at her outstretched hand but did not take it. He did not know anyone named Luna, and certainly had no idea what a "quibbler" was. "Okay. Well Ms. Lovegood that still does not explain how you know me."

Luna looked lost in thought, "Yes, I'd expect that from you. We went to Hogwart's together, six years," she cocked her head to one side which caused the light to glance off of her Christmas tree (complete with décor and a flashing star) earrings.

Suddenly an image on the Hogwart's Express flashed before him. "You're were a friend of Potter's?"

"Yes. I was also there when they cast that awful sentence on your father, serves him right. Terrible shame for you though; where do you live now?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "I would prefer it if we did not discuss my personal matters."

"I understand; if I had been forced out of my home by the Ministry I wouldn't want to talk about it either. Anyway, my number is up, great to have seen you again." And in a whirl of green flames, she was gone.

Draco raised an eyebrow. He had not realized how out of touch with people he had become. He had lost most of his 'friends' when he refused to testify the innocence of the captured death eaters, including his father. He severed ties with his mother when they had been forced out of their home in Wiltshire and began a business of his own which was coming along quite lucratively.

He was a loner, spending most of his time at work. That suited him just fine.

* * *

Draco swirled out of the fireplace, and directly into a middle aged woman. "Excuse you," he said. The woman gripped her purse a little tighter, eyeing him suspiciously. Draco rolled his eyes, "It's not safe blocking a floo exit, just so you know."

Draco turned away from the woman annoyed by her ignorance.

The hotel lobby was exquisite. The words _La Palourde: La Perle de France _were carved into the wall behind the front desk. Fake smiles were plastered on the faces of the desk clerks as they checked in their snooty guests.

Elegant flower arrangements were situated all around the enormous lobby and the finest dragon hide shoes clicked on the marble stone floor. However, luxury was something Draco was accustomed to. He was more impressed at how he had been standing longer than necessary holding his own belongings.

He looked around, searching for the concierge.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Malfoy." A crisp uniformed bellhop reached for his bags. "Suivez-moi, s'il vous-plait."

"You know, the reason I make reservations is so I can avoid _this._"

The bellhop nodded. "Oui, nous regrettons. We've taken the liberty of having a meal prepared and waiting for you in your room. We hope it will be accommodating."

Draco sneered. "I don't want that rubbish. For as long as I've been waiting, surely it has grown frostbite by now."

The two arrived at his suite, which looked very similar to a very expensive, elegant flat. Draco haphazardly flung his items onto the king sized bed and dismissed the bellhop.

He yawned as he looked around at the lavish room. The bed was large and covered in many dark green pillows, partially hidden by sheer bed curtains.

In the middle of the room, the bellhop was finished clearing the table of the spread and backed out of the room. Through an archway, there was a rather large sitting area complete with French doors. For the first time, Draco noticed a great granite mantle encasing the unlit fireplace right across from his bed.

He walked over to the window and stared down at the terrace below. He wondered how couples could dine so privately in the largely public setting.

Despite the time of year, it was fairly warm and beautiful women sunbathed nearly nude in the early Parisian sun. Yet, Draco's eyes swept impassively over the view.

His eyes continued to scan the scene until they focused on a young woman. She caught his attention because she looked oddly out of place sitting there in stiff business robes and her hair pulled back neatly.

Despite her bookish look, there was something very seductive about her. Perhaps the way she made no move to lower her robes as they slowly hiked above her knees, revealing the tops of her stockings when she crossed her legs.

Whatever is was, Draco decided he wanted to meet her, and within minutes exited onto the terrace below.

The outside area was more crowded than it had seemed from an above view. It took several minutes before he located the table where he first saw the woman, but she had vanished.

Draco stood beside the table, and his eyes roamed the terrace patio in search of the witch.

"Damn-it." He cursed out loud. His voice startled a nearby young server into action.

"I-I'm sorry sir, what can I get for you?" She whipped out a parchment-pad and a self-inking quill.

Draco waved dismissively at her. He wandered into the lobby area several moments later, only to find a room full of annoying tourists.

Late morning had brought many more travelers from all over, some wearing holiday colors, some not, but all in a merry mood. Draco looked up as he headed towards a lift and caught sight of the suited witch hurrying towards an open door.

He tried to run but was momentarily slowed by a group of passing families that clogged the lobby.

_Clang. _The heavy doors slammed just as he reached the lift.

Draco looked up and watched the light indicator stop on several floors. "Shit," he said to himself, "I can't believe I'm doing this…this is ridiculous."

"Well, there's room on this lift young man." A smiling wizard couple held the doors open for him.

"I'll take the stairs," he said, and left the couple staring after him.

No sooner than Draco had taken a seat in his suite and began to rustle through parchments, did he receive a knock on his door.

He heaved a great sigh in annoyance, "What?"

"Pardonnez Monsieur Malfoy, the Minister Fudge here to see you." The bellhop that had shown him to his room that morning stood in the doorway.

"Send him in." Draco stood anticipating the arrival of his acquaintance and business partner from Spytex, Draco's company.

A short man entered. His brown hair was parted and combed neatly to one side. Decked out in a navy blue robes and a red tie, he looked like the perfect politician.

The Minister walked into the room and stopped at the entrance, letting out a long whistle. "Some place you got here."

"Bartholomew, good of you to come, mate." Draco said, offering a seat across from his own.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, after all, a third of my galleons are tied up in it, am I right?" The Minister laughed heartily at his own joke.

Draco managed a smile, "too right, so what am I to expect for this upcoming week? When do I make the announcement?"

Regaining his serious composure once again, the Minister quickly pulled a schedule from his breast pocket. "Well, first off, I've appointed a new Wizard Relations executive, got their N.E.W.T. in business at Hogwart's. Recommended by the old headmaster himself--"

"Name?" Draco interrupted, wanting to know if he may know him.

The Minister looked thoughtful for a while, "It's escaped me at the mo', but you'll meet them before the day is done." He glanced down at his pocket time teller. "In a few moments WR will reveal the Intellitruder line, and the rest of the week will be basically foreign buyer's market," he looked up at Draco and smiled, "should go over smoothly."

The conference chamber was a large room that smelled of expensive perfumes and colognes. It was filled with important witches and wizards that chattered anxiously, waiting for the unveiling of Spytex's newest invention.

"Ah, Copernicus! I've someone I want you to meet." Minister Fudge grabbed Draco by the elbow, pulling him forward into the crowd at the door. "This here is Draco Malfoy," he nudged Draco in the ribs, "Copernicus Whortley's the old codger that introduced me to my ex-wife."

The two friends laughed.

Draco turned to the man, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." The Minister and his friend engaged in conversation, giving Draco time to ease back against the wall.

As the last person entered the room, the Minister heaved a sigh of relief. "I was beginning to think you were a no show."

The bookish looking witch that Draco had spent the morning chasing stood before them. "Draco, this is—I'm sorry dear, I've forgotten your name…?"

The little color in Draco's face disappeared somewhere below the neckline of his robes. The witch's face remained impassive as she looked at Draco. "Hermione Granger, Wizard Relations for Spytex, but of course we're familiar."

However, he maintained a cool expression on his face, never breaking eye contact.

"That's it. Hermione Granger, I can never seem to get your name dear," said Minister Fudge.

"I'm sure you'll get it. Excuse me Minister. Mr. Malfoy." She said as she made her way over to the podium.

"Huh," said the Minister, scratching his chin, "did she say you were two familiar?"

Draco nodded through a forced smile as he took his seat beside the Minister and waited for Hermione to start her presentation.

Hermione cleared her throat into the sonophone, "Good afternoon wizards and witches. As you all know, today is the day…" Draco zoned out and drifted into his own thoughts.

He sat, flummoxed at what had just occurred. Hermione Granger was the woman he had been looking for half of the day. He felt foolish and sort of embarrassed. In school, he prided himself in his own dislike of her simply because of her background and her friends. To make matters worse, she had been his only competition when it came to academics, a mudblood no less. Yet here now, he could not bring himself to loathe her completely. He leaned back and watched her head move as she talked.

He let his eyes travel down her backside. He gave himself a satisfied smirk; she certainly had not changed much in the time since Hogwart's. She wore sensible-heeled dress shoes. In fact, the only time he ever did see her dressed up was in their fourth year…

She wore a practical set of business robes, loosely fit (just a tad better than the bags she wore at Hogwart's). Although her robes reached just below the knee, her legs were visible…

Minister Fudge nudged him in the rib cage again, startling Draco from his thoughts. The room was standing in applause, everyone beaming at him.

Hermione had successfully launched Spytex's newest addition in Home-Office Surveillance. Wizards everywhere had the opportunity to protect their homes and businesses from intruders, at a considerable rate.

Draco took to the podium, "Thank you. No, please. First off, I'd like to thank you all…"

Afterwards, the conference moved to the dining hall for drinks and refreshments. Unfamiliar wizards and witches steadily came up to Draco congratulating him on the announcement of his ownership. Draco had thought it wise that after the war, he keep a low profile, at least until his business had turned a profit, so until that day Fudge had been known as the only owner of the company.

After just one glass of the finest elf-made wine, Draco retreated to his room exhausted from his day.

Draco emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his neck and loosely fit black pants. He glanced at the fire place and decided against calling up someone to start it (magically starting a fire in the hotel fireplaces was forbidden). He was worn out and decided to go straight to bed.

"Bloody hell," Draco cursed aloud as someone knocked on the door. "Who's there?"

"I've got something for you." It was Hermione.

Draco looked in the mirror and instinctively combed at his hair with his fingers. He opened the door wearing a blasé expression. "Yeah?"

Hermione held up a stack of parchment. "You left before we could give you a copy of the schedule for the market."

"Oh."

"Alright then." She nodded and turned to walk away.

Draco spoke before he could stop himself. "What are you doing here, really Granger?"

Hermione spoke as she turned. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing?' I'm working."

"You don't seem very surprised to see me."

She crinkled her nose. "Why should I be?"

"This is my first public announcement as owner of Spytex, I didn't know you were so well informed."

"Well, I am head of a department in your company; I suppose I am privy to certain bits of 'top-secret-information'," she said, making air quotes.

Draco did not look amused.

"Goodnight Malfoy."

He frowned. "Wait a minute. After _everything _you managed to come out of Hogwart's in _business_? You just don't seem like the business type."

"Why not, didn't you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. It seemed to be a very valid question, and he had no answer.

Hermione raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Goodnight, see you tomorrow," she said and walked away.

"Tomorrow," he said as he shut the door and climbed into bed, forgetting her immediately.

_Draco's sheets were dampened from perspiration. Kicking off the covers, he shuffled to the window and opened it; the strong breeze immediately caused the curtain to billow. The wave of moonlight cast eerie shadows throughout the room. _

"_What the hell?" As Draco turned to go back to bed, he startled to find a woman with long dark hair standing in front of the lit fireplace. Draco backed up as she began to walk towards him, the firelight shrouded her in shadow, save for the out line of red lips. _

_The breeze had cooled the room greatly, and also caused the satiny red gown of the woman to mold against her frame._

_Draco's knees hit the back of the bed just as the woman reached him, causing him to fall backward. _

_He noticed the woman's breasts strained against the fabric, as they acknowledged the coolness of the room. He struggled to swallow, his mouth had gone suddenly dry. _

_She sought out his hands, interlacing her fingers within his, and began to crawl forward._

_As she moved up Draco's body, the warm fabric of her gown rubbed against his chest. He prepared himself for her kiss when he felt her breath on his face…_

"What the…" Draco woke up early the next morning shivering. The moon cast enough light for him to find his covers kicked aside. He looked longingly at the unlit fireplace wishing he had called someone to light it the previous night.

Suddenly, he leapt from the bed brandishing his wand like a mad swordsman. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The curtains at the window were billowing wildly, causing a light flapping sound.

Draco let his arm fall limp at his side. "This is mental."

Slamming the window shut, Draco turned around and ran his fingers through his hair. He struggled to remember his dream, but only recalled the red stained lips of a woman.

He tossed his wand aside and settled back into bed, skeptical of having any more dreams.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! So what did you think? Are you interested? If you are go ahead and leave a review, I'd be happy to answer questions or read any critical reviews…Thanks so much.**


	2. The Not so Pleasant Surprise

**A/N: Sorry about the typos in the first chapter. I promise I read it 100 times, I didn't see it until after it was posted…and well, I just didn't feel like correcting it. Of course, I could use a proofreader for that type of stuff. So if you're interested email me. And now, on with the story…(P.S. I don't know if I like this chapter too much...see for youreself)**

**CHAPTER 2: The Not So Pleasant Surprise**

_Knock. Knock. Knock_.

_Knock! Knock!_

_KNOCK!_ "Alright, keep your bloody knickers on."

Draco had hardly gotten a wink of sleep and this bloody person at his door was in for a severe ass kicking if they did not stop. He opened the door with his wand in hand, loosely pointed at the-one-who-dared disturb his sleep.

The intruder scoffed. "Put that away."

"Oh, just the person I wanted to see first thing in the morning. What do you want Granger?"

"You're late."

His reflexes were slow from sleep, and allowed Hermione to push past him, into the room. "What the hell are you wearing. Where are you coming from, librarian's meeting or something?" Draco asked, stifling a yawn.

"At least we know sleep doesn't hinder your ability to deliver witty lines like those," she said sarcastically. "In case you've forgotten, today is the first day of the market. Someone had this dreadful idea you'd be there."

Hermione took a seat at the table in the center of the room. "You know it is December—did you sleep with the window opened or something?" She said, looking around.

"You could always leave, but then again if you're uncomfortable, I'm happy." His voice sounded muffled. He had gotten back into bed, and covered his head with a pillow.

"That's touching...you know, I thought I'd never see the day when you would pass up an opportunity to make more galleons."

"Fine. Fine, I'm up. Now what's so bloody important you felt the need to wake me up at the crack of dawn?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed to a copy of the schedule she'd given him the previous night. "The first meeting was at half past eight this morning--"

"Was? What do you mean by that?"

"Malfoy, that was nearly three hours ago. It's eleven now, and because of your absenteeism the Minister has asked me to—to be your_ personal collaborator _for the remainder of the market." She looked as if she had mustered everything in her to manage that statement.

Draco looked bored. "You meant my assistant, but go on."

"But don't you for a minute think I will answer to your every whim like some sort of a lowly minion. We're adults now, and this is strictly professional…I am not nearly as tolerant as I was at Hogwarts."

Draco snatched the schedule from her hand, ignoring her last comment, to double check the parchment. Sure enough he had missed the first conference of the day. As if reading his next thought, Hermione stood and walked to the door.

"You've got roughly forty-five minutes to be down stairs. Oh and Malfoy, I'll expect you will look a tad more presentable," she said with a haughty smirk.

"Whatever you say…Minion."

The amusement quickly died from her face and she closed the door behind her with more force than necessary.

Draco rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom. He started the shower and caught a glance at himself in a mirror. He ran a hand over the darker shade of blond stubble on his chin. "Great, I do look like a bloody mad man." He said and attempted to smooth an uncharacteristically stray lock of hair.

The steam from the shower soon began to sooth his sore neck. He stepped back allowing the hot water to wet his hair and face. The calming effect began to lull him deep into his thoughts until a loud thump jolted him back to reality.

He shut the water off and froze, straining to hear any sign of movement.

Silence.

"Who's there?" Draco wiped the water from his eyes and instinctively reached for his wand then cursed to himself for leaving it on his bedside table.

The intruder beyond the door had either gone or was waiting for Draco to emerge because it was dead silent.

"Granger?" he knew before he said it that is wasn't her. Who else could it be though?

He opened the door to a rush of cool air. He could hear the shuffle of footsteps from somewhere within the large suite. He grabbed a candle holder with one hand, holding his towel with the other. _Great, if someone tries to attack me, we can have a candle lit dinner,_ he thought to himself...

Another shuffle of feet and he felt the hair stand on the back if his neck; there was someone in his room and he was wandless.

He eased from the bathroom, gripped the stem of his makeshift weapon and prepared to strike the stealthy intruder. His attention turned towards the door when he heard the automatic locking charms click and the door slammed shut. He was across the room in a few strides and flung the door open just in time to see a swish of dark hair round the corner.

Draco made to run after the intruder, but was blocked by the startled looking bellhop.

"Er, breakfast Monsieur Malfoy? Should I—come back at another time?" he said, noticing Draco's scant attire.

"No," Draco said still looking over the shoulder of the bellhop. "I'm late as it is."

Back in his suite, Draco inspected the room. Nothing appeared to be out of place and all of his belongings were there. What kind of intruder breaks in but doesn't take anything? Furthermore, how did they manage to get in? He was staying in the Minister's Suite, one of the most expensive and heavily secured suites. After several minutes of puzzled inspection, he gave up and began his morning grooming ritual.

Half an hour late, Draco arrived to the meeting looking as well groomed as ever. His blond coif was neatly combed into place, and his robes crisply pressed. He took his seat next to Hermione.

"You're late, again" she whispered.

"Yes thank you for that, Professor Obvious...thank Merlin's socks you're here to remind me." Draco looked around, "Where's the Minister?"

"He's late too. I swear, it's no wonder this company needed me. It's positively dreadful with just you two." She leaned closer to Draco and sniffed, crinkling her nose she said "and you smell like you bathed in cologne."

"As much as my scent turns you on, I don't do Mudbloods, sorry."

Hermione frowned then turned up her nose in response.

They didn't talk for the remainder of the meeting. Nearly every company representative in the room had been impressed with the Spytex brand. When it was time, Draco went up to give the closing remarks and thank the buyers. As he exited the stage, he noticed Hermione leave out of the back exit and found her waiting for him in the corridor.

"Come on, we're supposed to meet with Fudge and another market in the afternoon," Hermione said, never looking up from a stack of parchment. Normally, he would not have tolerated such bossy tone from her, but he felt no need to start an argument he would no doubt win. So instead, Draco said nothing and lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

The pair went outside on to the terrace, the air was cool, but the sun dutifully warmed their faces. Hermione sat across from Draco, repeatedly crossing and uncrossing her legs, looking around for any sign of the Minister.

"Were you always like this at Hogwarts? No wonder your flaming boyfriend was such a nervous wreck," Draco said, regarding her with disinterest.

Hermione stopped and turned to glare at him as if deciding her choice words. "Excuse me if my work is important to me. Honestly, I don't know how this company has made one sickle with you around. Do you ever get any work done?"

Draco leaned forward, placing his elbows onto the table. "You know, you should really learn to relax Granger. Here's a thought, since I own the company why don't you let me take a crack at understanding what you've got to say. We can start without him, because believe it or not, I have better things to do than sit outside in the cold with you."

Hermione nervously bit her lip, looking around for the Minister one more time. "Fine. This meeting was supposed to be about marketing ideas for your new line. Especially since it is nearing the holidays. I thought it a good idea if we could capitalize on this merry spending mood everyone seems to be in. We need to get to businesses, like banks and department stores, we could even come up with something for the average home, and eventually get your face out there. The public needs to know…"

"Sorry, sorry. Please forgive me."

Hermione and Draco looked up to find a rather flustered looking minister standing above them. They shared a look before Draco spoke up.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, it's just my assistant just arrived this morning, he mispronounced the hotel and flooed somewhere else, then I had to pick up a friend. It's been a mess." He heaved a great sigh, signaling the end of his rant.

"No problem, Granger here was just going over some--"

"Yes, sorry about all this. I've got to run. Just wanted to let you know I can't make it to this afternoon's meeting. I'm sure you'll be fine without me. How about we finish this over dinner tonight?" He glanced at his pocket time-teller. "Let's meet in the dining hall around seven?"

"But Minister--" Hermione began.

"I'm sorry my dear Harmony, tonight I'm all ears, I promise! I really must be off…"

The Minister left Hermione and Draco staring after him in disbelief.

"Harmony?" Draco said with a smirk playing at his lips.

"Don't even start."

"The list keeps growing; Harmony, Minion…what's next I wonder?"

"I'm sorry are we still eleven? I was mistaken I thought we were adults." Hermione stood up, "I'm certain you can make your way to the next meeting without chaperone, if not too bad."

"Alright Harmony!" Draco called after retreating back.

The rest of the afternoon went fairly well. The Minister didn't show up as he said, and Hermione avoided Draco during the meeting. He barely noticed though, his mind was preoccupied; trying to figure out who the person was that had entered his room earlier that morning. He had not reported it to the front desk, there was no point in it. But he suspected he may have interrupted the intruder and thought they might be back. He just needed to know when, and why?

* * *

Around six forty-five a knock sounded on his suite door. 

"It's open," he said using his wand to unlock it.

Draco was in the mirror tying his tie, and didn't look up to see who entered figuring it to be Hermione.

A figure stepped into the mirror behind him. Draco's mouth went slightly slack, he barely recognized her as Hermione.

"I'm beginning to think it is impossible for you to be on time," she said.

He turned around hiding his initial reaction, feigning surprise. "Wow Granger showing a little skin, you almost clean up nicely."

"That's funny; you don't."

"Seriously though, do you always wear your hair like that? You look like a librarian in party robes."

"Gosh, I didn't know you cared. I'll have you know simple black dress robes are very appropriate for a business dinner…"

"You're right," Draco said heading towards the door, "I don't care."

Draco and Hermione got down to the dining hall before the Minister. The pair decided to wait at the entrance for him, as neither wanted to be alone with the other longer than necessary.

They stood in silence listening to the dull murmur of hushed voices. Draco suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath and followed Hermione's gaze up at the ceiling. The ceiling was enchanted, much like the Great Hall at Hogwart's, giving the illusion of dining beneath the stars. Shooting stars darted every few seconds across the ceiling-sky.

He intended to make some type of snide remark, but stopped when he noticed how truly fascinated she was with the view. Neither of them noticed the minister approach.

"Hem-em," the Minister cleared his throat to get their attention. "Sorry I'm late; I had to wait for my lovely escort for this evening.

Draco noticed a slender young woman attached to the minister's arm, she seemed wildly familiar but he could not place her. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the woman's scream for attention; she was dressed in very short, low cut robes. She left little to the imagination. He looked at Hermione and almost laughed at her expresison; she clearly wanted no fashion secrets from this girl.

Fudge made to introduce them, but the maitre'd interrupted, showing them to their seats. The mysterious young woman arrived at the table first and waited by her seat. The minister happily pulled her chair out and seated her.

Having no inclination to do the same for Hermione, Draco walked up and took his own seat, not noticing her slightly crestfallen look as he did so.

During the dinner Hermione seemed to notice several times the woman staring at her or Draco. Suddenly as if reading her thoughts, Draco spoke up.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Oh, so rude of me," said the Minister, "Harmony, Draco this is Pansy Parkinson, Pansy this is Harmony Granger and Draco Malfoy."

Hermione didn't bother to correct the Minister because the woman knew her. Draco managed to choke on his food as the woman extended her hand.

"Pansy? Parkinson?" Draco's face darkened, and he gripped his spoon tightly.

"I'm sorry, Pansy? I barely recognized you, but surely you knew us, why didn't you speak?" Hermione seemed to articulate what Draco himself could not.

Pansy continued to look at Draco as if Hermione had not spoken, "I suppose I've changed a bit. I wanted to give you a chance to see if you would recognize me."

"Well, you got me," Draco said in a bored, expressionless tone.

Pansy continued to stare at him. "Are you two here—together?"

He looked around at Hermione, as if expecting to find someone else there. "No. This is a business dinner."

"Oh ok, I didn't think so." Pansy replied.

Hermione cleared her throat, looking away in annoyance. Pansy looked over at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"I'm sorry Harmony, did you say something?"

"My name is Hermione."

"Of course it is."

The end of the evening had not come quickly enough as dinner had been an awkward experience to say the least. Further inquiry revealed Pansy had attached herself to the Minister, getting him to somehow overlook her father's past and ask for her hand in marriage. They were due to be married the following summer.

Draco remained silent throughout the meal, allowing Hermione to handle the meeting. At the end of dinner, the foursome stood and Pansy extended a hand to Draco.

"Good to see you again."

Draco took her hand, but said nothing.

"Wow you still have this, I remember this from Hogwart's," she said staring at his ring, still holding his hand.

He pulled back, "Yes, well then you know it was a gift from my mother." He began twisting it around his finger.

"I didn't know you were still in contact. I never see you around."

"That's because I'm not."

"Well, it's unfortunate. I'll hope to see you around soon. Take care of yourself Draco. Harmony."

They bid the Minister their adieus and began walking towards the lobby, in silence, to wait for a lift. When one arrived, Draco stepped inside, holding the door open.

"Are you coming or not?"

She looked up trying to see if there were any more lifts coming down. There were none.

"Granger…" She bit her lip and hesitated. "Fine, have fun walking up 12 flights of stairs," he said and let go of the door.

Hermione's small frame slid in just before the doors slammed shut and she rolled her eyes when Draco smirked. She noticed they were once again alone in silence and moved to the furthest point from Draco within the lift (which was not nearly as far as she fancied).

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you're so afraid of me. I'm not going to do anything to you. Trust me; I'm not going to Azkaban over you."

"I am not afraid of you."

"Whatever."

"..."

"..."

Hermione shifted her weight. "Odd…about Pansy don't you think?"

Draco didn't respond immediately, he looked thoughtful for a while and then he said, "Weight loss did her some good I suppose. She was sort of a cow at Hogwart's."

Hermione, unprepared for his comment, laughed out loud. She caught her self and quickly returned to her normal disposition, but he had seen it.

Draco raised an eyebrow, it wasn't until then he realized that he had never seen her laugh. Actually, he had never seen her wear any sort of expression except disdain and annoyance.

When her face wasn't twisted in fury, she looked quite different. Draco shrugged his shoulders and found Hermione casting him a sidelong glance.

"You know," she began, "you once fancied that _cow _as you so eloquently put it."

"I've never fancied Pansy."

"Whatever, but that's not what I meant. I meant it's odd how Pansy just re-emerged into society...and with the Minister no less. Actually it's odd how all of you did." She added as an afterthought.

As soon as she said it, she could tell Draco had taken it the wrong way because his face darkened and his voice became steady and calm. "And I suppose you think you're society? I suppose since "all of us" decided to lead quiet lives you've quite forgotten you're nothing more than a first class Muggle? I did not re-emerge; I have only had the pleasure of being quite happily without your annoying company. Do not presume to know anything about me or where I come from--"

"Stop it Malfoy. I told you, this is not Hogwarts and I am not a child. You know I was not in anyway indicating anything about you or your past, but I refuse to stand here and allow an arrogant, ignorant, bigot to belittle me for no reason. You really need to take a look around. We are not in the ancient times of Voldemort; he's dead and for quite some time now. Perhaps if you'd come from under the cloak you've been hiding for the past four years you might have noticed… now stop the lift I'm getting off."

Draco stood there, with every intention of _not_ stopping the lift; until he found her wand pointed at his throat.

"I said stop this bloody lift I'm getting off!"

Her wand was still raised when the doors slammed shut; she was livid but not surprised. It was to be expected, there could only be so much civility that dwelled within his crass little brain. She stormed into her room snatching up ink and quill and began to write…

He hadn't really been upset with her, but she stepped out of line. He knew that along with Voldemort much of the old bigotry of thw wizarding world died too. Still, it was the condescension in which she had said 'all of _you_ in society', as if _he_ were the outcast. She just showed no respect for a pure-blooded wizard like himself…

Draco almost laughed out loud at the thought of Granger ever showing him any type of respect. That would be the same day he rode naked on a unicorn's back.

No he wasn't upset with her; he was more unnerved by Pansy. After the trial, all of the death eaters' possessions had been confiscated by the Ministry. Their families were ordered to vacate the premises and all assets frozen until their offspring's' twenty first birthday. Of those he could remember he and Goyle were still yet to turn twenty one. Pansy should have received her riches several months ago.

Despite his anger, he knew Granger had been right to question Pansy's sudden reappearance. He had been estranged from her and everyone else for so long, and they had not departed on the best of terms. Her sudden familiarities were awkward to say the least.

_If he could only make out her face…_

_The woman in the red night robes leaned in. He was vaguely aware that he was pinned to the bed, trapped beneath her body pressing into his abdomen... Her long hair tickled his chest, and her breath was hot and smelled sweet._

_She was teasing him, coming so very close to his lips he could feel the heat radiate from her own. Yet she wickedly denied him._

_Her hands, surprisingly strong, released his wrists long enough to creep past his palms to entwine his fingers in her own. Her lower body began to move in such a way it caused Draco to jerk unexpectedly, his lips brushed hers._

"_Let me see you." His hands were still wrapped tightly in hers as he tried to lift them. If only he could brush her hair aside…_

_She leaned in closer, and finally their lips touched. She kissed him, firm, and as she pulled away she bit his lip…hard._

"What the hell?" Draco woke up and gingerly touched his lips. Slowly running his tongue across them confirmed no blood. But it hurt like hell. The dream had felt too real, his lip was still stinging when he turned over and drifted into sleep.

**A/N: Am I boring you to tears? Seriously...I can take it. So what did you think (be honest)? Please review…good or bad!**


	3. Of Cows and Mudbloods

**A/N: I don't know why I feel the need to write something here every time. It just seems like the right thing to do. Did I mention Draco has a potty mouth? **

"**It's like something out of that Twilighty show about that Zone." Homer Simpson**

**Anyway...on with the story.**

**Chapter 3: Of Cows and Mudbloods**

Draco ran his fingers through his hair once more and gave it a final shake, the last stray locks obediently fell into place. Satisfied that not a single hair dangled out of place he turned around, brooding. He stalled around in his room, not wanting to go to yet another breakfast meeting. All week he had been counting the days until he could return to the solitude of his own home. He loved his job because he could spend as much time as he deemed necessary away from nosy people.

Back at Hogwarts, he had still been a private person, but he loved people. He loved attention. It didn't matter if he was shagging a girl senseless, beating up on a helpless Hufflepuff, or just making Potter's life hell. He thrived on people. He was social by nature. But now…

Since the trial, he hated people. All they wanted was to nose around in his life. Accuse him of things they knew nothing about. He could feel it, every time he went out people fell into hushed whispers as he passed. They didn't even have the decency to wait until his back was turned. Everyone was so sure he would lie to cover up for his 'daddy', he surprised everyone by taking that Veritaserum. They thought him scared shitless of what his father might do. But as Draco sat on the stands at the trial, his father's gaze nearly penetrating his thoughts, he realized…there was _nothing_ he could do. Not a damn thing.

He realized that Lucius was human, mortal, a coward, and there was nothing he could do. It was that moment that Draco realized he would never risk a lifetime in Azkaban for that coward of a man. And what about Severus? They killed him. They killed him because he refused to follow that non-sense brainwash that half-blood Voldemort was spinning. They killed him because he knew Voldemort cared nothing about them. Voldemort was nothing more than a power crazed maniac. He didn't care if they lived, died in Azkaban and rotted into the grimy floors…as long as he got his use of them.

And it was that moment when Draco refused, when he realized he believed everything Severus believed. And he admired Severus for dying for what he believed in. Of course, it wasn't until Voldemort was dead and death eaters locked away in Azkaban that he conveniently had this revelation. He wasn't an idiot, he wanted to live.

When he finally realized he could circle his room no more, he pocketed his wand and dreadfully made his way out to the lifts. Thankfully, it was the last day of the market…he didn't know how much more of this crowd he could take. For the past two days it was the same, Draco and Hermione would have breakfast and dinner with the Minister and his—fiancée. He was secretly thankful for something though, the red lipped woman had not returned to plague his dreams. He couldn't take anymore of her—er, abuse.

Hermione however, had not spoken to him outside of meetings since their argument, if you could call it that. Draco guessed it was because she expected him to apologize. She would have a better chance getting him to ride that unicorn, naked. He wasn't worried though. He figured he was better off without her tagging along everywhere he went. She only pestered him with her nagging anyway.

He walked in to the dining hall and spotted them immediately. The Minister had brought Pansy to breakfast, as he had brought her to every other meal. He spotted her clinging to the Minister, she gripped his arm so tightly, it was a wonder the Minister could move at all. And for some reason, she felt the need to dress like a two sickle hag upon every outing. _Who shows that much cleavage at eight o'clock in the morning?_ Draco thought to himself.

"Well I see you're not an early bird, eh Draco?" Said the Minister as Draco took his seat. Pansy giggled at the Minister's joke.

Draco just shrugged and Hermione scoffed as if enjoying a private joke of her own causing Draco to scowl in return. The Minister apparently missed their small exchange and continued. "Harmony here was just about to start without you."

Draco saw Hermione roll her eyes.

"Care to share anything with us, Granger?" Being the opportunist that he was, he seized the moment. He put down his napkin and stared at her.

"No not really."

"No, please do. It seems something is bothering you. I'm sure we'd all like to know." He turned his body to face her, Fudge and Pansy did the same.

When Hermione stared angrily back at Draco, the Minister put down his utensils, apparently concerned that something really _was_ bothering her. "Well tell us Harmony. Perhaps there's something we could do." He said with a reassuring smile.

"Yes _Harmony_, what's the matter?" Said Draco, his face was knotted in exaggerated concern.

Hermione shot him a contemptuous look which only caused his face to light up even more. He raised his eyebrows as if to say 'well, get on with it then.'

Hermione felt the childish urge to stick out her tongue at him or kick his shin beneath the table. She spoke to the Fudge instead, "Well, Minister with all due respect, my name is in fact _not_ Harmony. It's Hermione. Her-myo-nee. If you cannot say 'Hermione', then please feel free to call me Ms. Granger. But please, do not call me Harmony again."

The Minister looked completely offended. And Pansy screwed up her already squashed features. "How dare you talk to the Minister of Magic that way you dirty little--"

"No, no darling. Ms. Granger here is correct. I'm terribly sorry. I had no idea, please forgive me." His voice was laced with bits of sarcasm that told Hermione he was not entirely okay with her outburst.

She looked from the Minister to Pansy to Draco. The latter of which looked as if he were bursting with delight. He irked her so much she could scream. "No, I'm sorry sir, that was completely out of line. Let's just forget the whole thing and get on with the meeting now that we are all here."

The Minister continued to stare at her for a few moments. Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable as the man trained his bright blue eyes on her.

Then he spoke suddenly, gently shaking his head as if emerging from a daze. "Yes. Well, as I was saying…Ms. Granger here nearly started without you. Of course Draco, since this is the last evening of the market, we'll be closing with sort of a collective social, an appreciation dinner if you will. As an added bonus, several department heads from the Ministry as well as Gringott's will be here. Apparently word has gotten around, you're becoming quite popular." The Minister beamed at Draco. "But not to worry, it's nothing formal of course, I might even suggest to bring along some company." He tilted his head towards Pansy indicating his own intentions.

Draco had not been paying very much attention. He had been distracted by Pansy. Several times he knew he felt the scrape of her fingernails as she grazed his thigh. He tried ignoring it but the last time she gone a little too far…he almost slapped the shit out of her. And now she was just full on staring at him, and the Minister was none the wiser. Draco was completely turned off at the sight of her, and was becoming increasingly more agitated by the moment.

He was about to open his mouth and ask her just what the hell she was doing when he heard his name.

"—with Malfoy and then I suppose we can start on that when we return to England." Hermione finished.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Fudge said.

"Start on what?" Draco looked from Hermione to Fudge for an answer.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, a product sales more when it is being marketed. I've already told you, you need to be seen. Promotion is key, and right now, you're the biggest promotion we've got."

He leaned forward, but maintained his cool expression. "What do you mean by that, you want me to do all the work? What have me doing advertisements or something?"

"Well, yes…but as I was saying, once we return to England, I've already scheduled an interview with the Daily Prophet. But, you need more exposure so I'm looking into more consumer friendly media…like the Quibbler, Witc--"

"Quibbler? That's the second time I've heard that, what is a quibbler?" He asked Hermione.

"Everyone knows it's a filthy tabloid. No one reads that rubbish," said Pansy, rolling her eyes."

Draco looked at Hermione incredulously. "A tabloid? Have you gone mental? How the hell can a gossip columnist help promote Spytex?"

Hermione sat up straighter in her chair, and struggled to keep her voice calm. "You're not listening. You've just—_for lack of a better term—_rejoined society. Everyone will want to know where you've been and why they should buy anything from you at all. Like I said, you need exposure, you need to answer questions."

"No. Hell no. I'm not answering anything. What the hell does _that_ have to do with anything?" Draco's face had become a pale shade of red and his voice had drawn concerned looks from nearby tables. Who the hell does this mudblood think she is? He looked around the table. The Minister and Hermione looked as if he was overreacting. Pansy just stared, she looked quite bored.

"Malfoy--" Hermione began.

"No, you're going to have to come up with something else…" He stood abruptly, and nearly sent a young server with an armful of trays flying. Luckily she caught her balance and steadied the trays with her wand, then turned to glare at Draco. He ignored her, and exited the dining hall.

"Well that was uncalled for," said the Minister looking at Hermione.

"I'm sorry Minister, I'll go and find him. We're not done here."

"Well Ms. Granger, as much as I'd love to stick around, I really must be going. Please let me know how things turn out with Draco, what he decides. But time is precious, we need to do something soon." He stood, offering his hand to Pansy and she took it as she offered Hermione a scathing glance. The two of them exited the opposite way from Draco, onto the terrace.

Hermione slowly walked out of the dining area, heading for Draco's suite. She sighed in exasperation, this was turning out exactly the way she thought it would. Just great. She felt like she had just spent the last week of her life working for a seven year old the way he threw tantrums. But what else could she do, she couldn't very well quit her job. Especially one she was so good at.

She had taken the job, thinking she knew how to handle Malfoy, after all she had nearly everyday of seven years putting up with him under her belt. But after four years without him, she had forgotten how annoying he really was. She tried being professional, but that was a bust. Somehow, she knew it was going to be the moment she set sight on him. So now she had been reduced to babysitting him, like the spoiled brat that he was. Lovely.

She knocked loudly on his door. "Malfoy. Malfoy, this is ridiculous, will you open the door?"

A second later the door swung open and Draco stood there with an irritated expression on his face. "What the hell do you want Mudblood?"

Despite the look on his face, Hermione drew herself up to her full height. "Is that really necessary? I have done nothing to you; we need to talk about--"

"I don't need to talk about anything."

Hermione rolled her eyes and made to move past him into the room, however she bumped into his chest and staggered back a step. He just stood there refusing to allow her entry.

"What do you want?" He asked again.

Hermione was beginning to get angry. "Do you really want to discuss this in the corridor?" She said sternly.

"You're right, I don't. In fact, I don't want to discuss anything at all." And he promptly slammed the door in her face.

Hermione's face turned red in anger and she began wiggling the door handle. "Fine, I can't believe you're being this childish. This is your investment not mine! And if this about you not wanting to answer questions about Vold--"

Draco suddenly opened the door, grabbed Hermione by the crook of her arm and yanked her into the room so fast that she let out a yelp of surprise. Once the door was closed and locked he looked at her. "What the hell is your problem?"

Hermione looked at him as she rubbed her arm. A few strands of her hair had come undone from her perfect bun in the process and now she looked quite mad standing there red faced with wild hair flying this way and that. "I don't have a problem. How can you just get up in the middle of a meeting? We weren't finished, you didn't even let me finish."

"There is nothing to talk about; I'm not answering questions about anything. If anyone wants to know about Spytex, write a fucking manual." He stared at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

Hermione managed to calm her voice, hoping Draco might do the same. "Like I said, you have to talk about this at some point." Draco began to interrupt her but she continued before he could speak. "But, you don't have to answer everything. The point is you've got to say something. When word truly gets out that you're the owner of this company people will become skeptical…sales will drop, unless you give them a reason not to. And the Minister agrees with me. I know you don't want to talk about it, but you can't run away from it forever."

Draco walked up to Hermione so suddenly she took a few steps back, mentally slapping herself for it. He stopped just centimeters away from her body. He looked down at her through a veil of white blond hair; she could just barely read the anger radiating from his eyes. "I want you to get out of my room and don't ever as long as you live proceed to tell me what I can or cannot do. What I do is none of _your_ fucking business."

She stared back at him, and after a long pause she said, "You're really just an idiot."

"And you're really just a Mudblood."

_Smack!_

Before she realized what she'd done, Hermione's palm connected with the side of his face. He stumbled back a few steps holding a hand to his smarting cheek. He blinked several locks of hair from his eyes, and looked ready to hex her to hell. She only shook her head and walked out of the room.

"Bitch," Draco said once the door slammed. That stupid dirty bitch had the balls to slap him. How dare she touch him, _ever_. He should have her fired…

By the time evening rolled around, Draco really wasn't in the mood to mingle. In fact, he didn't even feel like getting a date. Instead he showed up to the event looking quite surly and bored with the whole idea. The moment he walked into the room, the Minister approached him, Pansy on arm and Hermione followed shortly after, once again back in her stiff business attire. They had all been standing in a circle having a conversation.

"There you are Draco. I was just asking Ms. Granger if you'd be gracing us with your presence tonight."

Draco looked at Hermione, but she avoided eye contact. "I'm here now," he said.

"Were you two able to come to an agreement about promotion tactics?" When the two of them remained silent the Ministeer continued, he lowered his voice. "Draco, differences aside, Ms. Granger is certainly an expert in her field. I'm sure she certainly knows what's best in this situation."

Draco only nodded.

"Yes, well I'm off to mingle, have fun." Before the Minister walked off he leaned in, and whispered in Draco's ear, "Be sure to get on with that lot from Gringott's. If we land an account with them that would mean big galleons."

And with that, he left with Pansy still attached to his arm. Draco turned around and noticed Hermione still standing there. She looked like she was having a hard time controlling her anger. For the first time he noticed a tall, awkward looking fellow standing a considerable distance behind her. She turned and spoke to him, "Neville, would you mind getting me a drink, please."

Neville _Longbottom_?

Hermione took a breath. "Don't worry I'm not here to make conversation. You should know that Neville is on the board at St. Mungo's so it would be wise if you spoke to him…I would also like to apologize for earlier," she eyed the unmistakable red mark on his face and her eyes flicked back to his. "That was completely unprofessional. But you deserved it."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

By that time Neville had returned and Hermione walked away with him, neither of them acknowledging him any further. Draco watched them walk up to another group of wizards and witches and immediately joined in on the laughter at whatever joke was being told.

Draco turned and began to walk through the crowd. As the night wore on, he talked to several representatives from Gringott's and a few from the Ministry. They were all the same. Everyone wanted to know when he would 'tell the story', no one talked about Spytex. Everyone nosed around in _his _life.

He had somehow managed to avoid speaking with Neville…

He sulked around, drinking glass after glass of elf made wine, trying to drown out the mindless chattering of a room full of fake, nosy onlookers. By midnight his head was spinning and he decided he had had enough and slipped out of the room seemingly unnoticed. He made it to his room, and had unbuttoned his dress shirt before a knock sounded on the door.

"What the fuck, not even five minutes?" He said to himself. He opened the door and of all the people he had expected, one of them was not Pansy Parkinson. "Pansy? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Don't look so happy to see me, you might hurt something."

"What are you doing here?"

She looked to the side at a passing couple and smiled weakly. Once they had passed she turned back to Draco, "Can I come in?"

Draco's face remained stoic as he stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She walked past and he looked into the corridor to make sure no one had seen her enter. Shutting the door he turned around and faced her.

"It's after midnight, what do you want?" He said finally.

"So are you coming to my wedding?" She asked, ignoring the informality of the situation.

"So you came all the up here at midnight to invite me to your wedding? You couldn't just send me an owl or something?"

"No I suppose I didn't," she said answering the first question.

"Does Fudge know you're up here?" He asked getting very annoyed with whatever game she was playing.

Pansy looked around and saw the table in the middle of the room. She sat on top of the table, crossed her legs and looked at Draco. "No, he was tired, so I put him to sleep already," she said as she adjusted the straps on her dress robes, "I didn't know you were so concerned." She grinned.

Draco screwed his face into a sort of disgusted grimace. "Tell me why you're here or get the hell out of my room."

"Oh wow Draco, you've changed. I remember a time when you would never have been so impatient with me."

"Yeah well, obviously, times have changed."

Pansy got off of the table and walked towards Draco, swaying her hips almost obscenely. She didn't bother lowering her too tight robes that had ridden half way her thigh. She stopped just in front of him, her strong perfume invaded his nostrils. She pulled her long black hair to one side, she was tall they were almost eye to eye. "Draco, you haven't said anything about my new robes. Do you like them?"

He looked down at her. Her pallid neck and shoulders were exposed, as well as a significant amount of cleavage against the dark blue fabric. Before he had a chance to speak, she stepped forward and kissed him. One hand snaked around the back of his neck forcing him closer as she tried to deepen the kiss. He could feel her tongue prodding his lips, but he kept them firmly closed.

Finally, when his brain caught up, he gripped her by the shoulders and shoved her back. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she stumbled back, nearly over the table top.

Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the fuck is your problem? You're engaged to the Minister!"

"No Draco, what is _your_ problem. Since when are you so concerned about monogamy? I was right, you have changed. There was a time when you would have been all over me…"

Draco genuinely laughed, "Trust me, there was never a time when I would have 'been all over you'…especially when there was so much of you to be all over."

Pansy's looked as if she was close to tears. "I hate you Draco." She said softly. "I cannot believe you humiliated me like that."

"You did that to yourself. I don't ever remember sending you 'kiss me baby' vibes."

"When did you change? Was it the day you betrayed everything you knew?"

The laughter stopped so quickly it left sort of a ringing silence. All of the amusement left his eyes immediately, but he remained quiet. He remained quiet out of surprise and anger, and Pansy continued to talk.

"Not so funny anymore is it? I guess that is when you changed. When you realized that you betrayed your family, your friends, and everything your father sacrificed for you. But you don't have to worry about anything…everyone that can hurt you is locked up in Azkaban, right? Isn't that when you had the big eye-opener, when you were safe from Lucius?"

Before he knew what was happening, he drew his wand. It pressed against her throat, "You don't know shit about me or my father, get the fuck out of my room you fat whore." Pansy looked as if she considered something for a moment, then she smiled something more like a menacing leer as she flipped her hair over the shoulder and left the room.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair. The effects of the alcohol somehow felt stronger, but not strong enough…

Moments later, he stood at the bar of the hotel. All of the guests from that evening were gone, and just the bartender and a few house elves cleaning up remained behind. "Firewhiskey," Draco said and the bartender nodded, handing him two shots of the strong drink. He looked up at the ceiling, black.

Lucky for Pansy she left when she did. Draco could have easily strangled her, the stupid bint. She had no idea what she was talking about. He hadn't changed. He was the same. But then, why had her comment bothered him so much? He downed the two glasses and ordered another…

Several shots later, Draco stumbled out of the dining hall and out into the lobby towards the lifts when he noticed the terrace doors propped open. Noiselessly, he peeked onto the patio and recognized the unmistakable big bushy hair on _her _head.

He stumbled through the doors, "An' here I thought you'd managed to tame that beastly stuff you call hair."

Hermione jumped, and turned around at the sound of his voice. Apparently, she had decided to ignore him because she just tightened her cloak and continued to up at the star strewn sky, the Eiffel Tower Tower silhouetted in the distance. The huge wizarding hotel was located in the heart of Paris, but appeared to be, like St. Mungo's, just an abandoned building to Muggles passing by.

"Wha's wrong with you Granger?" On unsteady feet, he walked close enough to balance himself on the banister next to Hermione.

Hermione scoffed, sending a puff of steam from her mouth. "Go away Malfoy."

"That's no way to talk your boss, I could 'ave you fired, don't you know tha'?"

"You can't fire me, Fudge hired me."

"Yeah bitch, but I own the company."

"Well fire me then, just leave me alone!" She said turning towards him, her tiny face nearly hidden in the loose mess of hair, but once again twisted in fury.

"You always look like that." It was a statement, and Hermione didn't understand. She looked quizzically at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "But we both know I'm not going to fire you," he said instead.

She looked at him but didn't say anything…after several minutes he spoke again. "So you and Neville Longbottom…"

"No." She didn't explain further, and he didn't ask.

They remained quiet for a long time before Draco spoke again. The effects of the alcohol were still strong but the cold air helped sober him up slightly. "When we get back to England, I will do the interview for the Daily Prophet," he said as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"What about--" Hermione began.

"I said the Daily Prophet, can't you ever be satisfied?" He snapped.

She looked as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it. She shook her head, "I don't understand you."

Draco just shrugged. And with that, he turned, stumbled, and walked into the lobby.


	4. A Media Feeding Frenzy

**A/N: After pulling copious amounts of my hair out, I finally deliver to you this chapter. Not much happens, but I had to make sure what the characters said was exactly the way I wanted. Needless to say they did just the opposite. It may look like crap, but I seriously had a very hard time writing this. Never knew mere words, a stringing together of 26 letters, had such a strong hold on my life….**

**OK, I'm being dramatic. But it was very hard…**

**Chapter 4: A Media Feeding Frenzy**

Hermione stood at the entrance of Knockturn Alley. In the early hours of the morning when the sun had not quite made its journey over the mountain tops in the distance, the alley looked even more threatening. She suddenly wished she had waited a little later, at least until more people roamed the streets of Diagon Alley. She looked left and right. She didn't see anyone along the street except a lone shop owner that had bewitched a couple of brooms to sweep the stoop in front of his shop.

She peered down the Alley way before her. She only saw teetering stacks of boxes and shadowy shop windows. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she briefly thought about owling Draco to have him escort her to the building. He would probably just laugh at her, and use her irrationality to torture her at a later date. The git. She took a deep breath stepped forward into Knockturn Alley.

She half expected to find herself transported to some unknown dark dimension, worlds away from familiarity. But, glancing back, she could still hear the scarce footsteps of those making their way to various mundane jobs, and see the lazy sunrise…

The walking seemed to go on forever, and she could hear the loud echo of her heeled shoes. The sun was nearly blocked in the narrow alley and a light misty fog swirled around her ankles. At last, she stood before 4323 and 4327. She pulled out the parchment and stared at the words scribbled in Draco's tiny handwriting, concentrating on them. Suddenly the two empty shops seemed to leap apart. She anticipated for the rickety foundation to crumble from all the stretching and growing, instead, there was a small steel door that had not been there before appeared, and on it the numbers 4325 were superimposed.

The hinges creaked, badly in need of oil as she pushed it open. She walked in and the dimly lit little shop was empty. She looked around and on all three walls before her was only plain wooden paneling. The floor, astonishingly free of dust, was simple wood, and her footsteps sounded hollow as she stepped forward.

Hermione's eyebrows formed a sort of raised triangular shape as she glanced down at the parchment again. It was the right address, but surely this couldn't be Spytex, an abandoned shop in the back of Knockturn Alley. Spytex was supposed to be a large conglomerate filled with offices and several floors and—at least an employee or two.

"H-Hello?" Hermione said in a soft voice, unsure of who was supposed to hear her. She walked a complete circle around the small room.

She called out once again, and then decided Draco had played some cruel joke on her to get her into Knockturn Alley at some awful hour. She quickly spun around and opened the single steel door and gasped. She was staring at a blank wall within something that looked like a tiny compartment.

Curiosity got the best of her and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Perhaps it was some type of security precaution, maybe to identify her… no such luck.

Like the room, the space seemed to be lit with some unidentifiable light. She waited for several seconds and suddenly realized it was not so wise to close oneself into unknown small spaces. Then very suddenly, the compartment jerked and it felt as if her insides were rising in her throat, and she was sure at any moment she would reveal the contents of her breakfast all over the tiny compartment. And as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation went away and the steel door popped open. She stepped out and into an enormous lobby, scattered with wizards and witches walking as if they were all in a hurry in different directions.

The lobby area looked much like the ministry except instead of floo terminals, there were several bronzed statues of vicious looking beasts lining the walls. Instead of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, a huge emblem that said SPYTEX by DM was painted onto the floor in gold glittery letters. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, only to find a blank wall.

She walked in further looking around for some sort of directory when she noticed the bored looking receptionist filing her nails at a place she only assumed to be the front desk. The woman there had long dark brown hair and was pretty, Hermione noted, if scandalous tarts were pretty. "Excuse me," she said in a strong voice.

The woman looked at her as if she had just interrupted the most important task of her day. "The lifts are over there," she said returning to her task.

"Is that the way to Draco Malfoy's office?" Hermione asked.

"You're here to see Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione turned up her nose indignantly, "Yes, Hermione Granger."

The woman looked her down and back up again, causing Hermione to nervously touch her bun, just to make sure everything was in place.

"Straight back here are Mr. Malfoy's private lifts. Talk to Vanessa at the desk." The woman retracted her hand that had been pointing to the narrow corridor behind her, and resumed nail filing.

She noticed the office was much larger than necessary, much of it empty space. The office was only occupied by a large window, a rather large book shelf (not lacking any amount of books Hermione noted), a very suspicious looking fire place, and Draco…so arrogantly poised behind a dark wooden desk in an oversized black chair. His hair was gelled back, exposing his angular aristocratic features.

After shutting the door, she rolled her eyes, "Have all your secretaries been centerfolds for _OH! Merlin_ Magazine?"

"No, Vanessa made the cover." He said coolly. "But I doubt you want to discuss my secretaries' job qualifications."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously. So, are you the only secret keeper for this place?"

He shook his head, "Fudge is too…You're about two hours early you know?"

"Good decision too. You must be paranoid. Did you really need to make this place so hard to find?"

He shrugged. "Well, you have a floo portal in your office, from now on you can just floo here." He motioned towards his own fireplace, which turned out to be a floo portal. Fudge gave us special permission to floo directly. Anyway, I have work to do, your office is down the hall fourth door on your right. If you need anything, tell Vanessa, don't bother me. You know the way out." With that he turned away from her and began reading through some parchments on his desk.

She scoffed., and let herself out. As she walked down the hall she passed several office doors with names she didn't recognize on them. When she came to the fourth door she noticed a name plate with her own title had already been attached. Hermione J. Granger, Wizard Relations, indeed.

The office door across from hers was open, the only other open door on the hall. She peeked into the room, a striking black wizard sat a desk sipping something hot and steamy from a mug.

"Hello," Hermione said with a tentative smile.

The wizard looked up, with a not so friendly expression. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger, I'll be across the hall from you—Blaise Zabini? She said reading the name plate on his door.

"Now that the reunion is out of the way..."

"Right, well…"

Hermione retreated to her office, closing the door behind her.

Draco was not really doing anything, he only pretended, to get from under Granger's condescending stare. Just as he knew it would, a knock sounded on his door minutes after Hermione had walked out.

Draco and Blaise were never really close friends during their time at Hogwart's. Of course, they had mutual friends, but Draco had spent most of his time with Crabbe or Goyle. It wasn't until two years ago, when Spytex was just beginning to gain profit that he hired Blaise. During his time at the company, the two had grown to be the closest thing to an acquaintance that Draco had. "I'm busy," he said unconvincingly.

Blaise poked his head in the door. "Well it would be a first," he said with a grin. "So?" He stepped fully in the room closing the door behind him.

"So what?"

Blaise eyed him skeptically. "So…what's Potter's piece doing here?"

Draco held up a hand. "Please, I just ate. She's working, I thought that much was obvious."

The tall black wizard took the seat on the other side of Draco's desk. "Well I guess our little Drakey's all grown up, advocating equal opportunity and such," he said as he put his feet up on Draco's desk.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm doing," Draco said sarcastically. "Fudge chose her. You know how badly we needed to fill that position especially with my announcement as owner. I didn't even know about her until the Paris trip…she was such a bloody bitch the whole time. I suppose it's too late to do anything about it now though. We're behind schedule as it is…"

"Yeah, she came to my office hoping we could be friends or some shit, thanks for putting her right across from me by the way. At least I won't be distracted from work." Blaise looked disappointed at the last bit.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"I couldn't get into those knickers even if she wasn't a Mudblood, as stiff as she is. I bet she wears a chastity belt under those drab looking robes. Granger's got a stick up her ass mate, and not the good kind…unlike Vanessa." He said dreamily. "Vanessssa..."

"You're married, you know that right? Your wife is actually pregnant as we speak."

Blaise snapped out of his daydream and got up to leave, "Yeah, but who says I can't use a little adventure?" He said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Draco smirked. "That would be you, on your wedding day. You're really wicked you know that? Go do some work."

Blaise opened the door to Vanessa, the blonde secretary on the other side. "Excuse me," he said as he slid by her making more bodily contact than necessary.

She just smiled and turned to Draco. "The Minister is here to see you."

"Thanks, send him in."

* * *

"I cannot believe you held a meeting with the Minister without me. There were things we needed to discuss."

Draco had been listening to Hermione rant for the last ten minutes, and his patience had long ago diminished. "Granger, either you get to the real reason you came into my office or get out. I told you not to bother me." She was not fazed.

"I could understand that request if you were actually doing work, but it looks to me as if you're merely lounging about while the rest of us run this place," she said. "However, I came here to remind you that you begrudgingly agreed to the interview with the Daily Prophet. We have one week to prepare you for it." She handed him a stack a parchment which turned out to be both of their schedules for the upcoming week.

"As you can see," she went on, "Neither of us really have time to prepare for it much during normal business hours except during lunch which unfortunately I refuse to give up. But, I think I may have some time after work each day."

"As tempting as extra time with you outside of work sounds, I have to decline. I have others things to do."

She scoffed. "Like what?"

"Like twiddle my thumbs, does it matter? The point is, I said no."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Malfoy, I don't think you understand. Those reporters are going to tear you apart if you don't prepare for this interview. Do you even bother with the news anymore? We're still on every cov--"

Draco leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his eyes like two pellets of lead boring into her own, "I understand perfectly well. Although you maybe an expert on fame what with your own _reputation_, I can handle this myself." He looked down as if preparing to do work, "Now get the hell out."

After a few moments when he didn't hear her move to the door he looked up again and found her just staring at him. "Why are you still here?" He asked.

"Fine," she said. "I tried to make this easy for you, I don't even know why I… You should really just let me do my job…" She slammed the door with resonating finality.

Draco snapped his quill in half; he had not realized he was even gripping it that hard. He hated how Hermione could get so completely under his skin.

And he _really_ hated when she got the last word.

* * *

Hermione turned over and stretched and wiggled her toes.

_Saturday._

She was glad it was Saturday. That meant a day free of pointless arguments with Draco and inappropriate stares from that Blaise guy (creep). She had spent the past week trying to convince Draco that he needed to prepare for the Daily Prophet interview. For someone that swaggered so pompously (asshole!), one would think he knew something about the state of the media since the war.

Harry, Ron, Draco, and she had been unceremoniously shoved into the limelight as the four teenagers that brought His reign to an end. The trio for their destruction of the Horcruxes and eventually, Voldemort himself; Draco (in the aftermath) for identifying the unknown death eaters, inadvertently unveiling just how interwoven into society Voldemort's influences had become. To the wizarding world, Draco was certainly an interesting contributor to the downfall of everything Voldemort worked for. To the media Draco was a delicious indulgence, the son of a top death eater, shunting any efforts of resurgence among the remaining death eaters.

Of course, he didn't seem to know that, or care. He didn't seem to care that for nearly a year or more along with the trio, his face graced the cover of every media outlet known to the wizarding world. He didn't seem to care because he had vanished, and cut all ties with anyone, except apparently, the very Minister of Magic. Which was why Hermione thought it was odd how he decided now was the time to reappear. And now, thanks to him, the media was going to feed to the point of gluttony…

She was glad, because Saturday meant a day when she didn't have to think about any of that. It also meant her first visit to her friends since returning from Paris…

"Harry! I'm here!" Hermione walked in the door of number 12 Grimmauld Place. The kitchen looked as if no one had been downstairs in days, except for the fire roaring in the corner. Hermione shook the snow from her hair and unbuttoned her cloak. She started to walk out of the kitchen when Harry appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was just pulling his arm through the last arm hole of his t-shirt, when Ginny appeared next to him wearing one of Harry shirts, shorts, and a merry little Christmas hat over a wild case of bed hair.

Hermione looked at Harry then Ginny and rolled her eyes. "Three guesses what you guys were doing," she said sarcastically. Harry followed her gaze to the hat on Ginny's head and snatched it off, actually turning a bit pink in the cheeks. Ginny just leaned in and hugged her.

"I'm so glad you could come! So much to talk about." Ginny said.

"Ginny, you act like I wasn't here three weeks ago." Ginny shrugged. "So, when is Ron getting here? I feel like I haven seen him in ages." Ron had joined Puddlemere United two years ago as a walk-on Keeper.

"I don't know sometime tonight or tomorrow morning," Harry said grinning at Hermione, "You ready, haven't seen him since the beginning of Quidditch season you know?"

"Very aware," she said with a laugh. "Six full months."

"Oh yeah," Ginny chimed in, "I think the whole family is coming…if that's alright with you Harry?"

Both Harry and Hermione brightened up at this news. "Of course it's alright."

The three of them talked over tea a while longer when Harry announced that he was going to shower.

"Is it awful? Do I need to kick his skinny little ass?" Ginny asked as soon Harry left the room.

"Trust me if Malfoy needed an ass kicking I'd be more than honored."

So…how _is_ working with Malfoy going along? I got your owl about the incident on the lifts."

"Ugh, he's an egotistical, pompous, annoying, spoiled little prat of a boss…it's going just as expected, nothing out of the ordinary."

Ginny laughed, "Sorry Hermione."

"Yeah, he has an interview coming up with the Daily Prophet. I expect things to get a little crazy after that. He's going to look like an idiot, oh well, serves him right. Oh, do you remember that Blaise Zabini kid from Hogwart's? He works there too, oh the joy."

"Yeah, the black kid?" Ginny made a face, "what's he doing there, I didn't even know he and Malfoy were friends…is he still hot?"

"Ginny! You're engaged to Harry and he's married. Plus he's a pervert."

Ginny got up to take their empty mugs to the sink. "I was only asking. And keep your voice down! Harry still thinks you spent a week with your parents."

"Good. I don't think I want him to know just yet….or Ron."

"You don't want me and Ron to know what?" Harry said reappearing at the bottom of the stairs, his glasses off, and his hair still damp from the shower. Ginny stood up and kissed him on the mouth.

"Your Christmas present. How boring would that be to know ahead of time?" Harry seemed to accept the lie and wandered further into the kitchen looking for food.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged knowing glances.

Hermione had just finished cleaning the room (which happened to be the same room that Ron and Harry had shared during their fifth year) that she and Ron were going to share during their weekend at Harry's. She could hear Ginny's excited screams as if she were in the next room.

"Harry! Hermione! They're here! Never mind it's just Ron!"

Hermione was the last to enter the kitchen and was greeted to the sight of her boyfriend of two years, Ron, releasing Harry from a hug. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Six months had passed since she'd seen him last, and he was the same old Ron.

Hermione smiled when Ron turned slightly pink at the sight of her. He was so adorably shy, that's one of the things she loved about him most. He was incredibly tall and some what broad from Quidditch, and even though he was known to have a quick temper, he was just a teddy bear.

Without realizing, Hermione had closed the space between them and thrown her arms around him. She could almost feel the heat of his embarrassment on her cheek that was nuzzled against his neck.

Ginny must have noticed too because she casually tugged Harry further into the kitchen to give them privacy.

"You have no idea how long I have waited to do that," he said finally looking down at her, but not releasing her. His face that had gone completely scarlet returned to its normal color.

"About as long as I have?" She said and kissed him. His kisses were shy and boyish. Innocent. She smiled when he tangled his large hands in her hair…

Since his whole ordeal with Lavender in their sixth year, Hermione noted that Ron had not been very keen on public displays of affection. Which was why she thought the moments when they held hands, or kiss as they just had, to be very special.

"Hem-em" Harry announced he and Ginny's return and Ron finally released Hermione.

Within minutes, the group fell into old habits, the guys making jokes and talking about Quidditch as Ginny and Hermione (or rather just Ginny) prepared dinner. Hermione couldn't be happier than she was at this very moment.

"So, er, where's everyone else? Ginny said the whole family was coming," said Harry between bites of bread.

"Yeah they were, but Fred's kid got sick, said they couldn't make it." Ron replied before taking a huge bite of chicken. "Ah've waited s'long fo' cooked food. Coach seems to--"

"'Fred's Kid' has a name you know," said Ginny rolling her eyes. "Besides, you're an uncle now it might be nice if you learned _Tabitha's_ name."

Ron looked offended, "Hey I only met the ki—Tabitha a few hours ago. Calm down."

Hermione just smiled. This is what she missed, just the four of them like old times.

After dinner, Harry and Ginny said their 'goodnights' and disappeared into Harry's bedroom. Ron decided to take a shower, and Hermione went to work on putting away Ron's things. She hated clutter.

She unzipped his suitcase. _One piece of luggage for two whole months,_ Hermione thought with a smile. _Men_. Ron had brought a limited supply of toiletries, jumpers, trousers, knickers and two pairs of shoes. A 'good pair' and a pair she only assumed were for more Quidditch practice. She neatly folded his jumpers and put them away, and started on his trousers.

As she went to pick up the last pair, something fell out of one pocket and hit the floor with a dull thud. A small black velvet box lay next to the suitcase. She froze. Her heart pounded against her rib cage, and she reached forward with shaky fingers to grasp the fuzzy material. _Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin…s_he repeated like some sort of mantra.

She held the box in her palm and caressed the top with her thumb. _I should not be doing this. I should not invade Ron's privacy this way. _But her fingers moved of their own accord and flipped the top of the box open.

_Simple. Elegant. Traditional_. _Beautiful._

It was the only way to describe the modest white diamond ring nestled between the folds of the velvety material. Hermione swallowed thickly, Ron was going to propose?

"Hermione? Whatcha' doing?"

Hermione hastily shoved the ring back into the pocket of the trousers and turned around, silently urging her heart to cease its assault against her chest. Ron was standing in the doorway.

"N-nothing."

_Liar._

**A/N: yeah…don't worry, I hate Ron/Hermione as much as the next girl. But how much better is it to realize how splendidly perfect Draco is for her compared to something she already thought was great?**

**Please feed the author! Leave a review! Pretty please?**


	5. The Interview

**A/N: First off, thanks to EVERY person that read and reviewed or just read ( I have tons of hits even if they don't review). It's greatly appreciated. Secondly, everyone is so concerned about Ron's feelings…I'm going to tell you now, he's doomed. Mwa! Mwahahaha! Ahahahaha ha ha cough cough-er…the story, right. **

**Chapter 5: The Interview **

Draco leaned casually against the small table in the middle of the studio with his arms folded across his chest. He and Hermione had gone to the Prophet headquarters ignoring the pleas of the representatives to hold it in his personal office at Spytex. He had refused, sure that it was just a ploy to find out the location of Spytex Inc. So, here he stood counting down the minutes and listlessly regarding the scene before him. In his opinion, it was a waste of time. All this interview business was just a way to pry into his private life…

She was standing alone in a corner. Outwardly, she looked as professional as she did any other day. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head; her robes were neatly pressed with an air of un-gaudiness. But something was different; after nearly being caught holding the engagement ring, Hermione didn't have much of a chance the remainder of the weekend to really be alone with her thoughts about it. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to.

Ron was only in town two months before returning and finishing out the Quidditch season, so she knew that within the next two months she would be planning a wedding. It wasn't as if she never expected this day to come, she knew it would she and Ron had been dating quite seriously for over two years for Merlin's sake. However, now that the time had actually come, she was a bit apprehensive, hell she was _scared_. Was she ready for this?

Draco's eyes fell on Hermione, she was apparently lost in thought, but what got his attention was that she hadn't harassed him about the interview and it was minutes away. Actually, he noticed his morning _had_ gone quite smoothly, usually at this point in the day; she would have nagged him with a list three feet long. More so out of curiosity than anything, he sauntered in her direction.

She sighed when she realized he was headed straight for her. A distinctly clean and masculine smell she had come to associate with Draco invaded her nostrils. Her face remained gaunt, and she stared straight ahead as she spoke, "It was a foolish fancy to believe you were going to do the decent thing for once in your life and leave me alone. You are almost as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun."

"Truly poetic observations, but your moping completely overshadowed any effort I was making to prepare for my interview," said Draco and she only rolled her eyes in reply. "What, no lecture on how damned I am this morning?"

"There's no point in that, besides, the look on your face will be much more rewarding." She turned to him and flashed him a brilliant, but fake, smile.

He laughed humorlessly. "You're so sure of yourself, it's almost admirable."

"Leave me alone," she said suddenly.

He looked sideways at her. It usually took a lot more than this to get her riled up. "What the bloody hell is your problem?"

"Go away, Malfoy. I really don't feel like entertaining you right now."

"Actually, you are a bit more frigid than usual. Mood swings? Have a bad weekend or something?" Hermione grimaced as if someone had just pinched her.

"Malfoy, if you don't leave me alone I'll…"

"Report me to your boss? Hmm, I seem to have touched a nerve. Whatever could have your knickers so absolutely twisted?" He smirked and watched in amusement as her ears reddened in anger.

Hermione turned on him and began to reach for her wand when a young assistant tapped his shoulder. "Er, Mr. Malfoy? They're ready for you."

Draco cast her one last curious glance before following the young boy back to the table in the center of the room.

000000

The nauseatingly sweet smell of the bouquet arrangement set the mood for Draco. He thought the whole set up was so ostentatious and impersonal, from the bright lights to the warm glass of water on the table. The young reporter looked eager and almost greedy as he pretended to straighten his robes; so naturally, Draco schooled his nerves and donned a mask of cool aloofness. That was one of his talents actually. He learned long ago that hiding one's true emotions was a sign of strength, and he was not weak.

He felt her eyes on him and he reflexively sought out his only outlet of familiarity in the studio. If he hadn't felt her stare, he would not have found her. She was standing in the shadows, and when he met her eyes, a brief flicker of worry crossed her features before she resumed her silent indignation.

"Ahem, Mr. Malfoy," the reporter said. His quill and pad immediately levitated to hover several inches above the table. "As you know, we are here today to discuss with you, your recent announcement as founder and majority owner of Spytex Incorporated. First of all, I would like to extend my congratulations..."

"Thank you." Draco nodded in gratitude; even though his voice did not portray it.

"Well, off we go then. Mr. Malfoy, what inspired you to start a company like Spytex?"

"I felt that the wizarding world could benefit from it. Spytex is a one-of-a-kind corporation, there are none like it in all of the wizarding UK. I alone have given every person the power to protect themselves, their families and their businesses." Draco smirked at his very generic, but arrogant answer. He looked at Hermione rather smugly.

The reporter seemed ignorant to Draco's small triumph and the bewitched quill scribbled on, "But we already have Foe glasses, Sneakoscopes, Anti-Apparition charms, what further protection could your products provide that we don't have covered already?"

Draco sat back and placed his elbows on the arm rests, steepling his fingers before him. "You've done your research but all of those methods fail to do one thing. Suppose someone manages to surpass all of the methods you have exemplified. My products, more specifically the new Intellitruder line, work much like an image recording apparatus storing the images that can be played back as if the scene were unfolding before your very eyes. Imagine the effects of a Pensieve, but without the aid of a human memory. If for example, a victim is memory modified, it does not matter because the Intellitruder will still have recorded all activity. It is also small, the charms placed upon it are untraceable, and it is discreet unlike a foe-glass that is nearly the size of a crystal ball."

As if to solidify his statements, Draco pulled out a small glass ball and placed it on the table. Instead of rolling around, it remained still and looked as if it were filled with iridescent black smoke. The reporter picked it up and examined it. His eyebrows rose greatly, nearly even with his very pointy Widow's Peak.

"Very interesting Mr. Malfoy…"

Draco nodded smugly.

"However," his eyebrows returned to their normal place, "why should we buy this product?

"That is easy," Draco said, "This product will ensure the capture of any persons attempting to invade a private home or office. It offers concealment, peace of mind, and most of all security. It is the threat of justice that will keep intruders at bay."

"Yes, but what I mean is, how can we trust _you?_ For all we know this is a clever scheme to invade the privacy of others, a right bestowed upon us by some of the very first magical decrees."

_What? _Draco quirked an eyebrow, "Pardon me but, are you accusing me of--?"

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I am merely asking you a simple question. How can you ask the public to trust you? To consume a product of the son of a Death Eater? To trust someone that could betray his own father…How can we believe that you truly want to protect us instead of harm us?"

Draco allowed a frown to crease his forehead, he otherwise gave no notice that the comments had affected him. "I am not asking you to trust me. My product speaks for itself. Why, even the Minister agrees. Furthermore, I suggest your questions remained focused on Spytex."

"Well, hypothetically speaking Mr. Malfoy, Minister Fudge need not be aware of any covert efforts you make. Hypothetically, of course." The reporters dark eyes jumped between each of his, as if the answer to his question were reflected in the surface of Draco's gray ones.

Draco ground his teeth to the point of pain before he felt calm enough to speak. "You are entirely out of line. I suggest we speak in actual fact to avoid any…misunderstandings. Is that clear?"

The reporter smiled, but the quill never stopped scratching away at the parchment pad. " Crystal. Since then we are speaking in fact, let us clear something up for the public. Severus Snape…"

Draco stopped hearing but continued to watch the mouth of the reporter move as the blood in his veins suddenly felt like rivulets of ice matriculating from the stomach out. He bit down hard, struggling to keep an impassive face.

"…And so I ask you, how is it that you know the persons specifically responsible for the murder of Severus Snape? Where were you at the hour of his death?" The reporter finished and the quill paused, but Draco simply stared, unseeingly. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"E-Excuse me Mr. Malfoy," Hermione interjected, "Since it seems that we are done speaking about Spytex, I should inform you that there is an emergency at the office. We need to leave immediately." She looked pointedly at the reporter, daring him to speak in protest.

Draco blinked and looked quizzically at Hermione, but said nothing as he stood and walked out of the studio without a backward glance. It was obvious that there was no emergency, she had only made up that story to rescue him from obvious embarrassment, but the damage was done. _Rescue._ Draco clenched his teeth at the thought.

"I apologize," Hermione said to the reporter, "perhaps we could finish this another time."

The reporter touched her shoulder, complete satisfaction now dancing in his eyes. "Not necessary Miss Granger, I think we've got all we need right here." Her eyes followed as he kissed the parchment pad then stuffed in his left breast pocket.

"Hmm, well, it was a pleasure…" And with that she left, following Draco out of the Prophet headquarters.

* * *

The next day, Draco arrived at work ready for the explosion that was to come from Hermione and the Minister. He didn't even bother to read the Daily Prophet that Vanessa had placed on his desk. He didn't need to, after all, he was there.

He lounged in his chair as his mind went through all of the things he should have said to the reporter, instead of sitting there like some sort of mute. It was as if he had known just what to say in order to catch him off guard.

What was worse, _she_ was right. She was always right, and she had saved him from that idiot reporter. It was actually kind of funny; he, Draco Malfoy, had been bested by a greedy newspaper simpleton. He didn't feel like discussing the interview with anyone, especially her. She would rub it in his face, he could virtually hear the haughtiness in her voice. It would sound—

"Good Morning," a particularly chipper voice called from the doorway.

_Nothing like that_. Draco looked up and rolled his eyes at the woman he saw. Dressed in black business robes, Pansy stood in the door way to Draco's office, she looked nearly suitable for once. She crossed the large room and tossed a copy of the paper at him and then sat uninvited atop his desk.

Draco tried his hardest to ignore the picture of himself that was outraged on the cover of the Prophet. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find my building?"

She smiled. "You forget the Minister of Magic is my fiancé," she said wiggling the fingers of her left hand in his face. "Besides, you have bigger problems, or haven't you read the paper today?"

"Of course I have," he lied. "Where is the Minister? Or did you make a special trip just for me?"

"Sorry, but that ship has sailed." Pansy crossed her legs and smiled at Draco.

Looking completely unaffected, Draco prepared a retort when the door to his office flew open, revealing a red faced minister. Who, Draco noticed, looked strikingly similar to his uncle, Cornelius Fudge in such a state.

He strode forward, snatched his hat off and placed both hands flat on the desk. "Draco, have you read today's paper?"

Was that today's hundred galleon question?

"Naturally."

The Minister's eyes widened even more, if it were possible. "Well then would you care to explain?"

Since Draco had no idea what the article said, he could only assume the reporter had made him and Spytex look like an absolute sham, he did the next logical thing. He changed the subject. "Bart, I hardly want to discuss the matter when you are obviously very upset. Besides, it looks as if you were on your way to handle more…personal matters," he said, glancing at Pansy.

0000000

Hermione stepped out of the floo in her office, stumbled and dropped the stack of parchment in her hand. Upon receiving her morning copy of the Daily Prophet, she rushed to work, hoping to have arrived before the Minister arrived. He would not be happy about this.

Her plan was immediately dissolved when she heard the faint shouts of the Minister's voice in the distance. Gathering up her parchments, she walked confidently down the corridor to Draco's office door and turned the knob, completely ignoring Vanessa's warnings that the meeting was private. When she entered, three pairs of eyes turned to see who dared to interrupt the Minister in the middle of his tirade.

"Ms. Granger," the Minister pointed an accusatory finger at her. "How do you explain this?" He waved the copy of the paper for her to see. However, he didn't wait for her to answer, "Ms. Granger, you were recommended by Albus Dumbledore himself. And I trusted his judgment, but I dare say that I hold you as much accountable for this as Draco himself!"

He turned to Draco, who was lounging lackadaisically in his chair. "And trust me young man when I say I understand that this is fully your company, but I will not merely toss aside my well earned galleons! Not to mention my voters' trust in me." Draco made of show of stifling a yawn and the Minister shook his head in disappointment.

He turned back to Hermione, who had the decency to look ashamed. "Ms. Granger," his voice was much calmer. "Ms. Granger, I have been told time and again about the level of your intellect," Pansy scoffed loudly, she was now leaning against the book case. "I understand that this was your first major assignment, but please do not let me have to rethink my decision to hire you." With that, he mashed his hat onto his head. "I came here this morning to invite the both of you to the Ministry Christmas party," he tossed two pairs of tickets onto Draco's desk and headed towards the door with Pansy in his wake.

The moment the door closed, Hermione rounded on Draco. Anger was not her initial reaction when she had read the interview for she had known that this would happen. However, she did not take into consideration the threat of unemployment all because of _his_ pride. That was unacceptable.

How he managed to look so pleased with himself at a time like this, she would never know. Unless…

"Malfoy, have you even read the interview?"

"I was there, no reason to dwell in the past," he said coolly.

"Look Malfoy, unless you wish to loose every sickle you have invested in this place, I suggest you start taking it seriously. Read it." She tossed another copy of the paper onto the growing stack on his desk.

He seemed to consider his options carefully before slowly unfolding the paper and taking a profound amount of time smoothing the creases before sipping his tea and leaning in to read the article…

* * *

**A/N: I am sooooo sorry this chapter probably sucks and you'll never want to read another word I write. But a trillion things happened (well more like one or two) that prevented me to updating faster and with more quality material.**

**First, I got into an accident on my birthday (March 29th, I'm 24 btw). It wasn't my fault, I was riding down the interstate (singing Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani) and out of no where this car comes crashing through the median from the other side of the highway. Three car pile up, my car totaled, lots of talks with insurance companies, emergency rooms…blah, blah, blah. **

**I wasn't hurt too badly…Secondly, I had writer's block (which caused me to prevent further delay and just post SOMETHING) and ended up cutting about 500 words from this chapter. Please review, let me know what you think...what you want more or less of**

**And thanks to Tearsoftheforgotten, and emes for being my two people who ALWAYS review lol... Until next time,**

**Chocolateveela**


	6. Friend or Foe

Chapter 6: Friend or Foe

_Friend or Foe?_

by

_Grover Tolkeiss_

_It is truly the question of the century when discussing Draco Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy, owner of Spytex, recently sat an interview to discuss everything from the company itself to his dealings with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Straight away, it seemed Mr. Malfoy was holding back. His answers about the location of Spytex Inc. were cleverly sidestepped and he focused solely on the business at hand, never interested in building rapport with neither me nor future consumers of his product. When asked why he should be trusted, Malfoy stiffly replied "I am not asking you to trust me." A bold statement from a man who has family ties with You-Know-Who._

_When the identity of the captured Death Eaters became known, some were shocked to find Lucius Malfoy among them. Lucius was a prominent businessman and friend of former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge (like father, like son?). Needless to say, trust in the Malfoy name was completely shattered on the bittersweet day Draco Malfoy betrayed his family to turn his father over to authorities…_

Draco nearly tossed the paper in the rubbish bin; his father had been in captivity long before he underwent Veritaserum. Lies. These were all lies, and people just absorbed them like pathetic moldy sponges. Just as he was ready to crumple the paper and perhaps mutter a good _Incendio _spell, a name at the bottom of the page caught his eye. He risked a glance in Hermione's direction, who was failing miserably at inching herself toward the bookcase unnoticed. He continued to read;

…_the most bizarre moment of the interview was the subject of Severus Snape. I asked Mr. Malfoy how he knew which persons were responsible for the death of the former professor. The temperature in the room could have dropped several degrees as he stared into space with a grim expression. Just what caused the troubled reaction in Mr. Malfoy? One theory is ..._Continued on Page 5C…

After that, Draco _did_ toss the paper into the rubbish bin. It was a load of bullshit! And just as he suspected, agreeing to that interview was nothing more than a sneaky attempt to paint him to be a lying bastard…

His eyes landed on Hermione. It was all _her_ fault. "What the hell are you doing Granger?" he said a little more icily than he intended. Good.

His voice startled her out of a trance. She had nearly forgotten he was in the room. His bookcase was stocked with very expensive leather bound books about magic, famous wizards, business, and oddly a book Hermione recognized by Muggle author Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Two dragon statues served as book ends. They were fascinating; ugly yet remarkably exquisite. They were heavy like iron, and their mouths were opened to reveal split tongues lashing out at her. She had become entranced by them. Swirling pools of shimmering color, the eyes, stared blankly at the vast space of Draco's office.

"I won't repeat myself Granger."

Hermione shook her head imperceptibly and turned to face him, he looked a bit disturbing. He was calm and his face was neutral except his eyes were focused and cold. He was standing now, nervously twisting the silver ring on his first finger. But she wasn't deterred; his arrogant antics had almost cost her a job that she could not afford to lose…

"Malfoy--" she began, but he waved a hand to silence her.

"No, I don't want to hear whatever bullshit you've got to say. Is it your job to make me look like a fucking idiot? Is _that_ what you do all day?" He held up one of the papers still on his desk. "You knew and yet you—you set me up didn't you? I--"

"Stop it Malfoy. I _told_ you. I told you everyday since Paris, actually. These people don't trust you and you just expect them to buy into your little attempt to act like you haven't been gone for 4 years? You set yourself up—and people want answers. We've all been through it, I know how you feel…"

"Don't. You don't know a damn thing about me, particularly about how I _feel_. You've everyone fooled haven't you? Everyone thinks you're so smart and—no you're really not so intelligent at all. Just a lame excuse for a witch and a perfectly good waste of space. No, you know what Granger, do your fucking job or the next time I swear, I'll toss you out on your ass so fast your head will spin."

"I _cannot believe_ you're blaming this on me… Actually, I can. And it's exactly what I should have expected." She stared at him for several moments, her chest heaving slightly. "I can see this is never going to work. I'll just save you the trouble of 'next time'."

0000

Whatever _that_ meant.

_He_ couldn't believe she was acting this way. It was her job to avoid these things; she didn't, ergo, her fault.

Minutes after she walked out he finally straightened his attire and sat behind his desk. When had he even stood?

He felt his temperature finally returning to a reasonable level. But, the more he thought about it, the more it aggravated him all over again. Even when the Minister had been flailing and yelling like an idiot he remained cool. Yet, she muttered one word and sent him flying off the handle. It didn't please him that's for sure.

And she had gotten the last word…_again._

He continued his brooding until his door suddenly opened without warning. He was standing again.

"What the hell? Don't you ever just—what are you doing? Why do you have that?" He asked, indicating the box stuffed with picture frames, a plant, and various office supplies.

She shifted, struggling with the heavy load, yet still trying to keep her dignified stance. "I am only here to collect my tickets for the Ministry party." She moved to get them, but he snatched them just out of her reach. "Malfoy, I don't have time for this. Give them to me."

He gave her an incredulous look. "You cannot be serious. You expect to just walk in here, _quit_ without a notice and get a lovely parting gift? You are sadly mistaken."

"Well, I would be if it were your event. This is from the Ministry, you have no authority on the matter. Give _my_ property to me, now." Even to her ears it sounded childish.

Draco felt his insides lurch. "Fine," he said throwing the tickets in her general direction. "Get the hell out of my building." He turned his back, dismissing her.

She silently gathered her things and left.

00000

He was like a child! What kind of grown man _throws_ things?

Hermione stood outside of Harry's home, trying to convince herself she'd made the right decision. It was very unlike her to just make decisions based on whatever emotion she was riding on at the time.

No, this was a long time coming. It was just as well too, she was making no progress and the Minister could find someone to replace her. She groaned inwardly. But Dumbledore had gone out of his way to make sure she got the job. He thought she would be best for it, he even told her so himself.

She sighed, and opened the door, treated to the sight of Ron and Ginny at the table.

"Er, Hermione? What are you doing here?" Ginny asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, don't you have Auror things you could be doing?"

Ginny scoffed, "I'm off duty, your turn."

She and Ron stared at Hermione in identical puzzlement. The latter of which had gotten out of his seat to take the heavy box out of her arms.

"I quit," she said flatly, leaning into Ron.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up, while Ron's furrowed.

"Hermione, you can't quit. What about—you know?"

"Why?" Ron said.

Hermione sighed, ignoring Ron's question. "I _know_ Ginny. But I—I just can't, besides, I should really be at the Ministry if anywhere. Look, I'm going to lie down for awhile, I don't really want to talk about this right now."

Ginny didn't look convinced, but she didn't say anything as Hermione left the room.

Upstairs, Hermione took off her shoes and situated herself in Ron's bed. She deeply inhaled the scent. He smelled like spices, peppermint and leather. Quite the opposite of Malfoy…

She didn't know how long she had been asleep before she felt a warm body press itself into her back.

"Hermione," he breathed onto her neck. She shivered as the smell of peppermint wafted beneath her nose. "Care to tell me why Dumbledore made a special trip here just to see you?" He said in the same breath.

She froze, and slowly turned to face Ron. "Er, he's here—now?"

He nodded. "Downstairs as we speak. I came up here to get you, he insisted that we wake you."

But she was already out of the door before he finished his sentence.

As she entered the kitchen, she made eye contact with Ginny, who looked guilty. Dumbledore stood, as pleasant as ever, but with a determined expression.

"Ah, Miss Granger, so sorry to wake you, but I believe you know why I am here. Imagine my surprise when I received an owl from Miss Weasley stating you'd quit your job."

Though she couldn't see him, she knew Ron was listening at the foot of the stairs. "Professor, please could we discuss this, in private?"

Ron stepped around the corner as Hermione led Dumbledore to the room the Order had once used for secret meetings, it still had some old wards and an Imperturbable charm placed on it.

"Ginny, what's going on? Is there something Hermione isn't telling me?"

She shifted on her feet, she couldn't tell him about the assignment. Dumbledore said the fewer the better. She was only privy because of her position as an Auror. She was still trying to decide just _what_ to tell Ron when she heard the faint pop of apparition just outside.

* * *

Moments later, Dumbledore emerged from the room looking accomplished, and Hermione looked defeated. By that time Harry had returned and he, Ron and Ginny were seated around the table…waiting. 

Hermione took as long as possible seeing Dumbledore off before turning around.

"Uh," Ron said, making a sweeping motion with his hand.

"What?" Hermione said innocently.

"Hermione, cut the shit, are you on assignment?" Harry asked impatiently.

Well. _He_ certainly wasted no time.

Hermione silently ran through a small debate on whether to scold Harry for his sudden lapse in sanity, having cursed her, or to pull Ginny aside and yank her sleek ginger hair a bit. She sighed and sat down heavily next to Ron, settling for glaring daggers at Ginny, who looked a little less guilty and more defiant. "Did you read the Daily Prophet this morning?" she said.

"Hermione, what does that have to do with anything?" Ron asked.

"Well if you had, you would have noticed a lovely little article about Draco Malfoy."

"Hermione if this has anything to do with why you quit your job and why Dumbledore came here today, please get on with it sometime this week," said Harry.

"Harry, I don't know what's got your knickers in a twist, but that is the last time you speak to me that tone. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't answer, but Harry's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. She went on as if never having been interrupted. She recounted her experience with Draco, starting with her very first day in Paris.

Hermione looked at each of her friends in turn after finishing her long tale. Harry eyed Ron warily, then turned to Hermione. "Er—what does that have to do with Dumbledore?"

She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Harry was naturally suspicious, so it came as no great shock when he didn't completely buy her story. "Dumbledore recommended me for the position. He went out of his way to get me that job and he just came back to talk a little sense into me. It's no big deal, really." She risked a glance in Ginny's direction briefly catching her eye.

"So," Ron started slowly, "You—that is to say, Dumbledore left Hogwarts on a school day just to persuade you not to quit your job?" She had to admit, even to her it sounded pretty lame.

"Yes. And sorry about keeping this whole Malfoy thing from you, I just didn't want to start any trouble between you guys, considering you know." She looked innocently from Harry to Ron.

Ron looked thoughtful for a while, then seemed to accept her apology and squeezed her hand beneath the table.

Harry smiled and looked at Ginny. "You don't seem so shocked. You knew all of—this?"

Ginny nodded, but said nothing else. Haary seemed to be suppressing his anger and took a deep breath.

"Come on mate," he said turning to Ron, "let's have a go on our brooms for a bit."

As they turned to leave, Hermione pointedly avoided looking in Ginny's direction. Afraid of what she might say, Hermione chose to go to be early, suddenly not feeling very hungry.

Her back was turned but she was awake when Ron came into the room later that night. Slipping beneath the covers he pressed his body flush to hers and began placing butterfly kisses over her back and shoulders. He was freshly showered and she could feel the damp locks of hair graze her neck as he leaned in. But she was in no mood to cuddle.

She kept her eyes shut tightly until she heard him sigh in defeat and soon his breathing evened out, indicating sleep. She opened her eyes and stared into the dark. She hated lying to him. Deceit was not something to invite into her relationship before their lives together even began. But there was no way she could reveal her assignment. Not yet, Dumbledore made her promise. So, Hermione drifted off to sleep, dreading the day when she would be resigned to ask Draco Malfoy for her job back. Great…just _capital_.

000000000

He knew it wasn't very becoming, throwing a tantrum like he did. Even so, he was within his rights. No one walked out on him. Not even _her._

That was what he rationalized to himself as he lay awake in his bed.

After spending the last few weeks in her presence, he realized the cool mature demeanor she carried when they first reacquainted themselves in Paris, had disappeared. The defensive, edgy, and frustrated girl he knew from Hogwarts was back.

He rather preferred the former; at least every conversation had not spiraled out of control before he had the time to realize it. Needless to say, Spytex was going to be back to normal without her. Good.

0000000000

Something was wrong.

Draco dreamt of the Woman in Red for the first time since Paris that night and woke with a dreadful feeling. She was forceful, frantic. She did not take the time to slowly seduce him like before and he could feel her frustration even as she ground her hips into him.

And just as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. He still had not seen her face.

Draco chalked it up to his horrible day. The paper and their lies, the Minister and his small conniption, and _her _quitting were all to blame. So, when he woke the next day, he knew it would be no better and his gut immediately filled with dread.

When he got to the office, he had Vanessa cancel all of his morning appointments. He needed time to prepare Fudge with the news that they were looking for Hermione's replacement.

"Mr. Malfoy, someone is here to see you."

Draco scowled at the secretary. "I said cancel my morning appointments. How hard can that be?"

"It's Ms. Granger, sir."

He paused. "Well, send her in," he said finally.

Draco noticed she looked just as she did on the first day in Paris; neatly groomed, pleasant expression but strictly business. He motioned to the chair in front of him.

"Look Malfoy, there is no point in delay. I came here to resume my position." She looked at him with an air of finality.

She never ceased to amaze. Draco sipped his tea then spoke slowly. "Just so I am clear, you storm out of here, in the middle of the work day might I add, announcing your leave. And today you expect to just come in here and have everything back. Are you serious?"

"Quite. As a matter of fact, I have already spoken with the Minister. He has all knowledge of the events of yesterday and is willing to give me my job back. I am only here to notify you."

He smirked, he was honestly amused now. She had already informed the Minister. Good, something less he had to worry about. "Granger, I must say, for a woman you have quite the pair of balls. Fortunately, I do not need the Minister's permission to run my empire. We are already in the process of reviewing other applicants, we'll be in touch." He stood and extended his hand.

She looked at it as if he were handing her a dead ferret.

"Malfoy, I am serious. I apologize for my behavior yesterday it was entirely out of line but so were you. You cannot honestly think that in a place of business your verbal bashings will be tolerated?"

"And so your solution to the problem each time is assault me or storm out and expect an apology will make it all better? I think not." He retracted his hand and resumed his seat.

She seemed to deflate right before his eyes. Without another word, stood and headed for the door. Her heart was pounding and she was growing doubtful that her little act wasn't going to work.

Draco rolled his eyes. He was going to hate himself for this. "Granger, let it be known that this will not happen again. Go do some work. Now."

He did not see the tiny smirk on her face as she left the room.

* * *

A/N: First off All thoughts to everyone at VT. 

Secondly, another apology for a long wait. My muse, inspiration, creative thought--all of the above are still on vacation. It will be a happy day when they come back. So, I got a new job at Barnes and Noble/Starbucks. I got all of this Harry Potter stuff for free! I got a huge Poster, a button, a--something--with Snape's picture on it. AND when we get the books in, I'm gonna try and sneak into the stock room and get a peak. HA, I doubt I'll get very far. When the books come, we're forbidden to wander into the stock room. Oh well. Just thought you'd like to know.

Also, thanks to everyone that read Still Unfaithful. I'm still blown away at the response. I seriously wrote it in like an hour out of sheer boredom. I wonder what about that little story people like so much. Please let me know so that I may do it again! Due to the wave of reviews that requested a full length story, I will be making it longer. However, I want to get pretty far into this before I begin posting. So it will be a little longer.

Speaking of this story, I imagine it will be picking up pretty soon, but I just can't rush these things...you know how that goes.

Well enough random rambling...PLEASE review! It makes my freaking day.


	7. The Engagement Ring

**Chapter 7: The Engagement**

-

"Hermione, you are gorgeous."

She smiled at Ron's reflection in the mirror behind her. She wore dark purple robes with tiny jewels embroidered on the material that randomly reflected the light. She was like royalty. Her hair was up in a loose ponytail. A cascade of dark ringlets fell from it, pulled to one side leaving the expanse of smooth skin plainly visible through the deep V in the back.

"Stop it Ron, you're just saying that."

"Please woman, I am the luckiest man on earth," he said, staring at her through lidded eyes. She shivered under his scrutiny.

"Yeah right." She laughed.

He sighed and stepped up behind her, pressing his hips into her backside. She could feel the beginning of an erection forming against her. "You know I love you right?" he asked, and she turned to face him, placing her hand on his chest. "Hermione, I--"

"Ron, I know. Now, let me fix your tie."

The moment was awkward for her, and a certain amount of guilt ebbed its way into her gut. She knew the moment that he was to propose to her was close, maybe even tonight. His behavior was odd, and he was nervous around her. It had been years since she had seen him so nervous around her, and that alone made her suspicious of him…

"Cor, Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed from the doorway. "You make me look like a peasant!"

"Shut up Ginny, you know you look fantastic." And she did, in russet colored, body fitting robes that presented her ample cleavage, she was sexy. And the skinny-heeled shoes (as Ginny referred to them) elongated her curvaceous body. Yeah, fantastic.

Harry's face appeared in the doorway over Ginny's shoulder. "Oh my God!" He squealed in a fake high pitched voice, "Ron you're so hot!"

"No Harry, _you_ look beautiful. Your robes match your eyes!" Ron said.

Ginny punched Harry on the shoulder. "Shut it, we do not sound like that."

"Really though, as much as I'd love to listen to you beautiful people compliment yourselves, we have to get going or we're going to be late," said Harry from the hallway.

Hermione laughed and linked arms with Ron, allowing him to lead her from the room.

oOoOoOoOo

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter! Over here!" The Minister spotted them the moment they crossed the ballroom threshold. Hermione had taken to walking directly in front of Ron in order to hide her bare back from view. Ginny told her she was crazy, while Ron had no complaints.

She looked around the room and recognized many people from her school days and many she heard mention of through the media, and everyone one of them held a glass of something in their hands.

"So good to—oh who's this young man?" the Minister said peering around her shoulder. He had been drinking, the evidence in the empty glass he sat on the tray of a passing waiter, grabbing another in the process.

Hermione noticed beads of sweat on his forehead and the redness of his cheeks. She wondered just how much the Minister of Magic had been drinking.

"Oh, well this is Ronald Weasley and--" she started.

"Weasley! Oh how foolish of me. Of course you're Arthur's boy and you, dear girl, are Ginerva. Outstanding things I've heard of you in the Auror department!" Behind him, Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Well thank you, but please call me Ginny" she said.

"Well what a pleasure it is to finally meet you both. Hermione here tells me Pansy attended school with you all?" He reached behind him and pulled her forward by the wrist.

"Bart, we all went to Hogwarts at the same time, no need for introductions." She said.

"Kind of makes me feel like an old man. Well let us be seated then, eh? Table seven. I made sure Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter here sat with me, so we're all together I suppose."

Ron snickered and Hermione elbowed him. "Behave," she whispered.

"Bart's a chatty drunk," he whispered back. She laughed.

_**Meanwhile…**_

"Ah Draco Malfoy. We meet again."

"Luna, is it?" He questioned, not really caring either way.

"Is this your date?" she said smiling at the woman to his left. "Luna Lovegood," she said not waiting for a reply. She stuck her gloved hand in the woman's face.

"Abigail Proctor," said the woman.

"You're not from here."

"No, I'm from America."

Luna nodded, if she had a beard she would have stroked it. "So you've managed to dodge the Wedgemites? I hear they love to feed on Americans."

Abigail looked confused and turned to Draco.

"Luna is there something I can help you with?" He said impatiently.

"No need to be rude, I just came over to confirm the interview set for January."

He furrowed his brows. "Interview?"

"Yes of course. The one Hermione has been trying to schedule for weeks now, I just wanted to tell you it's finally booked—oh, Neville!" And she ran off leaving Draco alone once again with his date.

oOoOoOoO

Weasley was staring _again. _And he didn't like it because really why Weasley would be staring at _him _was lost on him.

"Problem Weasley?" Draco said, more than a tinge of annoyance in his tone.

"Yeah actually--"

"Abigail," Hermione said to Malfoy's date, "how long have you been in Britain?"

"Oh—uh just this week. Draco was nice enough to invite me to this fantastic event and I've met some really nice people. Except for one woman, Lunar something? She was…"

"Yes, _Luna_ is one of our really good friends," said Ginny, with a saccharine smile. "She runs one of the most popular magazines here in Britain actually…"

"Don't you mean useless tabloids?" said Pansy.

Ginny looked as if she might reach for her wand but decided against it, opting to roll her eyes instead.

"Speaking of the Quibbler," Draco began, "Luna came over to _confirm_ an interview?"

Hermione cleared her throat and brushed a lock of hair from the middle of her chest, his eyes followed, lingering a moment longer than necessary on her exposed collar.

"Please Malfoy; let us leave matters of the company at the office. We can discuss it later." It was not a question, and it snapped Draco right out of his daze.

"Good idea Ms. Granger." The Minister said "We are here to celebrate the season, let us do so with good cheer!" He motioned for a waiter to bring over more wine.

Draco was fuming. She had the nerve to loud talk him as if _he _was the one causing trouble. It seemed the entire Weasley clan had been stripped of manners and yet she blamed _him_?

Silence fell among them; the only sound was the occasional thump of a wine glass settling back onto the table. Draco's eyes never strayed from her for long. She infuriated him to no end, and it turned his stomach every time she made eyes with Weasley. And all the same, he could not look away.

It had been since the night in Paris on the terrace that he'd seen her hair down. It was wild and swallowed her face and really it was the most unappealing look for her. The same hair tonight fell in long curls that grazed her collar bone and the tiniest bit of cleavage. She looked beautiful, and it only made him angrier.

He scowled and swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp.

Suddenly, Weasley cleared his throat. "Hermione can I uh—I need to ask you something," he said

Hermione looked around and found everyone at the table paying rapt attention, except Malfoy of course. The bottom of his empty glass seemed more interesting.

Her face flushed and something knotted in the pit of her stomach. Something that told her, _this was it._

She turned to him and said the first thing that popped into her head. "Can't it wait?"

"Er, I, not really. Hermione?" There was a slight plea in his voice. She put down her glass and turned to him, more than anything to avoid embarrassing him in front of Pansy and Draco.

He cleared his throat and glanced at Harry and back to her, having gathered a new confidence. "I know we've been dating for two years, but really I've loved you since the day we met. All those years ago on the Hogwarts Express."

He scooted his chair back and kneeled in front of her. Her stomach threatened to swallow her heart. She glanced around, the eyes of everyone seemed to be riveted by the scene unfolding before them.

"…What I'm trying to say…"

_Had he been talking the whole time?_

"…you marry me?" His voice cracked and he was so red she thought his skin might blister and peel away. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she looked around again, and for a fleeting moment locked eyes with Draco. He seemed frozen in the act of bringing his glass to his lips, though his face showed no emotion.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she whispered. Her throat was raw. She swallowed and tried again. "Y-Yes—yes Ron. Of course I'll marry you!"

Someone that had been holding their breath let it out in a _whoosh _of air. It might have been Harry, but she had no time to think about it before she was scooped into a smothering embrace that smelled of mint and _Ron_. Her fiancé…

"Oh my God! Hermione!" Ginny cried, and Harry thumped Ron on the back.

It wasn't long before they calmed down and were seated once more. Ron grinning like a Cheshire cat, and clutching Hermione's hand in something like a death grip.

"Oi, darling it looks as if we've gone and started a trend," the Minister said to Pansy.

She smiled at Hermione but it did not reach her eyes. "Yes, it seems so." She turned to him, and kissed him full on the mouth.

Harry looked as if he were about to wretch when the Minister turned around, sporting a pair of lips the color of Pansy's lipstick. "Well now," he said, lifting a glass. "Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, here's to a happy marriage."

"A happy marriage," they all said together. Hermione glanced at Draco and he dutifully sipped his wine.

"Oi, Draco—I suppose it's down to you now. Is Alison going to be the one to make an honest man out of you?"

He sneered. "Hardly. And her name is _Abigail_."

The Minister frowned, apparently affronted by Draco's clipped tones. He then turned back to Hermione. "So, have you thought about setting the date yet?"

"Well we haven't really talked about it, but--"

"But we do know that we want a very large wedding, so we think summer would be best," said Ron, cutting her off. "We could have it outside."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and shot Draco a fierce look when she heard him snicker into his glass.

"Isn't that right Hermione?" said Ron, still smiling at her.

And so that is why until long after the Ministry festivities had ended and Harry and Ginny retired for the evening did Hermione finally speak to Ron.

"For someone that just got engaged, you certainly don't seem happy about it," Ron said sourly. "What the hell is the matter _now_, Hermione?"

And this was them, they argued, about anything really. He was too assuming and she was too bossy. And it was a cycle. Boring and redundant.

"Ronald Bilius, I cannot believe you—I really can't."

"What for, asking your hand in marriage?"

Hermione turned to him pointing the hair brush that she had just been struggling to pull through her hair at him. "If you don't know, then you don't know me, and you're a right git."

Ron made a noise, like something between a scoff and a groan, and then followed her into the bathroom.

"That's really mature of you Hermione. And since my Legilimency abilities are shite, I need you to _tell_ me what you're on about."

She didn't answer and tried to push by him but he was much bigger and blocked the entire doorway.

"Move!" She yelled.

"Wake the house why don't you?"

"Well _move_ out of my way."

He folded his arms, resembling an ancient gate keeper. "Not until you tell me what's wrong with you."

"Tonight Ron! If you think that's how it will be, that you'll become my mouthpiece—I-I will not be lorded over!"

Ron looked as if she belonged on the fifth floor of St. Mungo's, and she suddenly felt a little foolish for yelling so much.

She shook her head. "Never mind. I'm tired. I think I'm actually going back to my own flat." She waited, lingered to see if he would say something. He remained quiet so, she stepped around him. "See you tomorrow, I suppose."

And he let her out of the bathroom and out of the bedroom and he didn't follow.

oOoOoO

It had been several days since she had been in her own flat, and she went straight for the bath. She wiped the water off the mirror and caught glimpse of the ring.

The very same ring she discovered so many months ago now rested on her slender finger and realization settled in that she was a wife to be. So what was her problem and why was she spending her first night of her engagement away from her intended?

The thought of her engagement drew her memories back to the party and how everyone had witnessed Ron Weasley drop to his knees and ask for her hand.

She remembered the way Draco had been watching her, and the shiver that coursed her spine. She had never really seen him with that look in his eyes. It was…weird.

She sighed. She knew it was wrong to get so angry with Ron over something relatively small. So, by the time she crawled into bed, she resolved to apologize to her fiancé in a way he could…appreciate. It was the least she could do. He had been home for nearly a month and she had yet to engage him in any of his attempts at intimacy. She blamed it on her job, always claiming that she was overworked. And he understood.

She loved him, she did. She decided to show it.

OoOoOoO

"Ms. Granger, I realize that I have been lenient with you in the past, but let me assure you that tardiness will not be tolerated," Draco said with a lazy drawl.

Her eyes flashed. He had been an exceptional bastard towards her all day and she had finally reached the end of her wits.

"Mr. Malfoy, I think we should discuss this in private."

"No, let's talk about it now. I'm sure everyone would like to know _why_ you thought it prudent to interrupt." He motioned around a room full of uptight wizards and her eyes briefly passed the smug expression on Blaise's face.

She turned back to Draco, tilting her head to one side. "Well, if you insist. I was late because I just had a conference with the _Minister of Magic_ and it appears that the company's financial situation has taken a dramatic dive. There has been mention of bankr--"

Draco's expression darkened, but his voice was as calm as the sea when he spoke. "Gentlemen, meeting adjourned. Granger I need a word with you."

She smiled and perched on the end of the table. Once everyone had gone, he turned to her. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

She stood. "Excuse me? That tone is _unacceptable_, and you're the one that _insisted_ on having share time--"

He waved his hand, effectively silencing her and stepped forward. "Let's get something straight." His voice was still very calm and he was scant inches from her face. She could feel the heat of his breath and he smelled vaguely of chocolate and coffee.

"You work for me, Granger. I will not be disrespected in my own fucking company, especially by you."

She scoffed. "Is that what this is all about? Well, I deserve that same respect. I won't be humiliated and made a fool--"

"Once _again_—this isn't about you!"

"But it's always about you?" She emphasized by poking him in the chest with her finger, hard.

"God damnit!" He raised his hand as if to grab her. "I swear you are the most--"

"What are you going to do, hit me Malfoy? Go ahead, I dare you."

They glared at each other, merely centimeters apart now. The only sound was their ragged, uneven breathing.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and his eyes followed. For one insane moment, she thought me might kiss her and found herself leaning in to find out. His gaze made its way back to her eyes and he slowly lowered his hand.

"Don't tempt me", he said and shoved past her and out of the doors of the conference room.

Once outside, he released a breath and momentarily sagged against the door frame, taking a few minutes to calm down. He cleared his throat, straightened his tie and set off down the hall, slamming the door to his office behind him.

* * *

AN: F I N A L L Y. Seriously, I think I've had the biggest case of writer's block ever. But I powered through, it took all summer but I'm here now.

Anyway…you know the drill. Review please! Let me know how you liked it.

P.S. Next chapter is finished, just tweaking it a little.

Thanks.


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